


Good Girls Don't Die

by Leodinia



Category: Venetica (Video Game)
Genre: BAMF!Scarlett, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Loosely follows the events of the game, Not quite smut but it gets saucy, References to Depression, Scarlett's POV, Spoilers for the game I guess, Swear Words, Tragic Romance, a lot of em, but she has to work for it, cause let's be honest the game's dialogue characters and logic were garbage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leodinia/pseuds/Leodinia
Summary: My name is Scarlett, I am a normal girl who grew up in some piss-poor village whose name you're not going to remember in the mountains of northern Italy in the 1500s. Or so I thought. Apparently I'm nowhere near normal and only half-human. The other half has recently brought me a lot of trouble. I lost people I cared for, but I survived. I now have a mission, but things rarely go as planned, even if it is omniscient transcendent beings doing the planning.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 1





	1. Nights in Venice

**Author's Note:**

> I have been in love with this game ever since it came out and used to write fanfiction for it 6 years ago (and posted it [here](https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/5230845e00034a18392fc0c4/1/Venetica)).  
> Recently I just felt like writing again. So I've decided to re-make the entire thing, from the ground up, with a lot of new headcanon and now in English instead of my native language.  
> The rape-tag is only for safety and it does not get explicit. The violence does, though. Apparently, that's how my brain works.
> 
> Writing this has been such a blast! A big hug and a thank you go out to every reader, commenter and supporter of this random passion project!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nights in Venice: blood, gore, death, secrecy and plotting - what's not to like?

Dying hurts. Nobody tells you that when they give you tips about the big city life. It had been some time since I last died. Only this time, it had been completely pointless. "Your big mouth is going to get you in trouble one day," they used to say. They couldn’t know just how right they had been. I sighed at my stupidity for dying in the first place. I should not have provoked that mugger who was just asking nicely for a 1000 ducat toll. I had thought of some smug line to mock him, but noticed I had messed up the moment I said it.  
Trying to get my bearings, I took a look at my surroundings. The mugger who slit my throat a minute ago was already rummaging through my things, though he thankfully didn’t attempt to … ew, nevermind. The dark alleyways of Venice didn’t get to see many tits these days, even fewer ones you didn’t have to pay for, so who could blame him? Was he gonna die for his inability to keep it in his pants? You bet he was.  
"Why isn’t she more freaked out about dying or something?" you might ask. Well, that’s the thing about me. I can’t die. Well, I can, but I can also come back to life. So you can see why screaming or flailing about would be counter-productive. I’d rather execute my revenge on my killer and then go about my day.   
Which could be easily arranged, as I was invisible to the living while in the Twilight. What does that look like for me? Well, imagine being completely hammered and then put on a pair of greenish-toned glasses. That’s roughly what it feels like to wander this realm. The other sensations, whispers, and energies surrounding me not included. Though one should never underestimate the creative potential of alcohol.   
I slit his throat quick and clean which should have made for a swifter death than I was granted, but the bastard still put up a fight. By clutching tightly at the wound, he slowed down the bleeding more than I’d expected. Damn, I needed to get that dagger sharpened.   
With a good kick in the crotch, he went down on his knees, making slurping noises and choking on his blood. I rammed my dagger into the side of this neck until it was stuck all the way to the hilt. With the noise of vertebrae cracking under the force of the metal, his struggling stopped.   
Within seconds, the roles had been reversed, as I was now the one searching his stuff. Mainly looking for the stuff he took from me, but I wouldn’t have said no to other useful finds. Out of habit, I checked my throat. It had been slit quite a few times by now, but again, there was nothing left of the fatal wound.  
My wounds would always heal when I died and came back. The Twilight Realm apparently … does that and I seemed to have some sort of affinity to it. Sounds a bit overpowered, no? Well, I had to die for it to heal me, so there’s that. Then again, coming back from the dead is pretty overpowered.   
There I was, looting a corpse in the dark alleys of the arsenal district, checking all directions for possible witnesses. At the thought of witnesses, I pulled my hood back up. While my body would re-materialize fully healed and revitalized, the same did not go for my clothes, bags or weapons. Those were still affected by the mugger’s greed and sex drive.   
That hand-me-down outfit I got when I had nothing else was still surprisingly functional and I made it work. Though the clothes covered a bit less skin than I would have liked. The corset-like contour was cut-off above the nape, and tightly hugged my upper body, while long sleeves from a see-through material fell freely.   
A lot of fabric had to be cut off when they were re-tailored for me, otherwise they wouldn’t have fitted me at all, and I couldn’t exactly be picky at the time. The weather was nice for this time of year, so at least freezing wasn’t going to be a problem.   
The clothes did look good on me, maybe even great. It’s just that looking good doesn’t help when you’re trying to survive the bandit-ridden districts of Venice at night, as a woman, alone. Pulling my hood lower into my face, I set off to do what I came here to do. 

I liked to plan things. I liked to think about what possible outcomes could be and to prepare accordingly. I didn’t like that the particular plan I had in mind had become more and more convoluted and that it endangered lives beside my own.  
I needed to find out the location of something called the “Black Grimoire” and it was information only someone named Sophistos could have given me. A few weeks ago, I had tracked down an apprentice of his, named Nox, and learned that the man was was dead.  
At least I had a lead— I knew where his old lab was. Which just happened to be in a place that was impossible to get in. Without the right key, that is, and said key happened to be in the possession of the Arsenal’s overseer, that sociopathic bastard.   
After all that I’ve been through, there are few people whose presence alone could make my skin crawl. Largo was one of them.   
The man had a unique coldness to him. People who were cruel and sadistic - those I could work with. With those, it’s easy to distance yourself and claim the moral high ground, even though I was no angel myself.   
Largo made forgoing human lives over everything else seem so normal and practical. He had a way of convincing a poor man that they should give up their last lump of bread for the good of the Arsenal and beat down their neighbor for not doing the same.   
I had taken money from Largo once. It was for an assassination well done. His way of commending me for my success created such an agreeable atmosphere that for just a moment, he made me forget that the man I was hired to kill was actually alive and well.   
To get the contract for that assassination, I had to build up a reputation. Largo needed to be told that “the Foreigner” was the one to ask for those kinds of things. Under that moniker, I had crafted and built a reputation as an efficient, discreet sword for hire who could throw a spell or two for good measure.  
When Largo had commended me for killing Mercutio, he had managed to implicitly convince me that by murdering a man for money, I had proven myself as a skilled member of society and not a degenerate piece of shit.  
The proof of the target’s death was fake, of course. Since there was no new contract on Mercutio’s head anywhere else in Venice’s underworld, I just assumed he was in the clear, at least for now.   
To get to Sophistos’ old lab, I needed Mercutio’s gratitude and his contacts. I had only been able to track him down thanks to Largo’s resources and support.   
When I finally encountered Mercutio, I did so at the same time as two other assassins sent by Largo as a backup. I killed them before they could fulfill their contract. Mercutio now owed me his life.  
With his iron grip on any kind of crime around his arsenal, Largo had no fans among the lawless of Venice which made Mercutio an invaluable connection to have.  
I needed to get Largo’s key to the Old Chimney. The place was abandoned, at risk of collapse and due to be demolished soon, hence the overseer’s tight grip on the only way in.   
It was a key activating a mechanism that could not be picked like any other lock. Blasting the door would bring the whole place down, block my way in and risk the lives of the people living and working nearby, so I did need the key after all. 

These days, Skullbreak Tavern didn’t do its name justice. When I entered, it was as if I could physically feel the insane amounts of despair. People of a remarkable variety in social standing were scattered all over the badly-lit room. Many were here alone. At a table by the bar, there was a group of dockworkers who had decided to sulk in company. I had talked to them once. A miserable and pathetic sight, but after actually interacting with them, I knew better. They were actually really brave and they were in their predicament because of it.   
The current Doge used most of the Arsenal’s resources to fuel warmongering and he did that at the cost of human lives that were lost due to the brutal working conditions at the docks. The group at the tavern had quit their jobs because they couldn’t take it anymore. Now, they were risking starvation. They were going to get by for maybe a couple more weeks.   
I had promised them to think of something and planned on talking to members of the guild who were better connected than I was. And here I was, coming back empty-handed. Literally the fate of the world was at stake and it had held me back from finding a solution. I still felt like shit.   
I made eye contact with one of the workers and could only give him an apologetic look and shake my head. He gave me a nodding smile in return. It was without humor, but genuine. "Not a single one of us is expecting anyone else to fix our problem. You did good by us already," he had said the last time we met. It felt wrong hearing that when I had done nothing. Except maybe listening and giving a damn. It was going to be all I could do if no other option would appear out of thin air.  
Moving past the group, I leaned one arm on the bar top. "Evening, Sansa.” I smiled at the waitress behind the bar. Looking up from the mug she was cleaning, she smiled back.  
"Hey, Scarlett. It’s good to see you safe!" I liked the girl.   
A month ago, a drunk patron decided it was a good idea to harass me. When I proved to be a target too bothersome, he moved on to Sansa. Needless to say, it did not go well for the guy. My standing up to a man that was at least a head taller than me inspired Sansa, or so she said.   
By now, I had gotten decent at defending myself. Sansa, on the other hand, was a gentle soul who wouldn’t hurt a fly. I liked her a lot because she had an open, inquisitive mind and was a brilliant listener. On top of that, she was elegantly inconspicuous. I should offer her to do some spy work for Kitten when this was over. It sure would be a safer job than working in this shithole.  
"Kitten", the local gang leader, was in every way defiant of features associated with her alias. She had the body of a dock worker - huge, muscular and plump in proportions. Her ways were brash, to the point, and nothing like the elegant, silent ways of a cat.   
From growing up in the streets, she had clawed her way to the top all by herself. It’s a man’s world and I’m biased to automatically like whoever is defying that.   
Nowadays, Kitten used her position to create chances and perspectives for the people on the low end of society where she could, but she was no idealist. She could be very cold and practical when the need arose.  
Kitten’s spies had narrowed down the location of Largo’s key to a chest in a set of rooms in his estate. With her men, I was to pull off a heist. The day before, I had met them briefly to go over the plan. I just needed the key, but I would help her men at securing other valuables from the estate as best I could. That way, Kitten and I would both get something out of our deal.  
"Always.” I shrugged. "Can you point me to a patron named Han? I’m supposed to meet him."  
"Sure, the bald head at the corner table by the door. Seems to be nervous as hell ever since he arrived. Just watching him fidget is making me itchy. You’re not up to something dangerous again, are you?"  
"Never.” I winked.  
"Right." She rolled her eyes. "Just be careful."   
That was our thing. We looked out for each other when we could. Well, we tried to.   
Han, the rebel contact I was set up to meet, was actually shorter than myself. I didn’t see that every day. I had a pretty normal height for a woman my age, but the circles I frequented, there was usually another average going around.   
Kitten had set up the meeting. The rebels were the only ones to openly stand up against the Doge’s tyranny. They were supposedly planning something bold at the docks but seemed to lack the resources and manpower to pull it off. It made hiring “the Foreigner” a good choice. Whatever it was going to be, it would be bad for Largo’s operation and thus a good distraction to pull him and his men away from his mansion.  
I found him like Sansa had said— fidgeting. He had a bulky bald head with small eyes. Those could have been devious if he didn’t seem like he wanted to run away. When I stepped closer to his table, he locked his gaze with mine and— to his credit— held it. I assumed he recognized me from Kitten’s description. For someone on the run from a hundred and then some people who wanted to kill them, it was embarrassingly easy. Look for a brown-haired woman with brown eyes in a hooded cloak with a sword on her back and there you go. I wasn’t going for any dramatic effect by carrying my weapon that way. I was just too short. Carrying my sword at the hip, it would drag on the ground. It was a choice between blending in or having a weapon with me to defend myself. To me, it was no choice at all.  
Han tried his best to calm down a little. Acting professional and focusing on his mission probably came easier to him than looking inconspicuous. I sat on the bench opposite to him and casually leaned both arms on the table and folded my hands. That way, I kept him in arm's reach. With either of the daggers hidden in my sleeves, I could stab him in the chest at a moment’s notice.  
"I appreciate that you were willing to meet," I said and gave a curt nod. "I understand there is something I can do for you."  
"Not s-so fast,” he stuttered, trying to hide his fear and failing terribly.  
"I know, there are rumors," I cut him short, "but I really do want to help… your people." Wherever people are oppressed, desperate or both, you can bet your ass there are going to be listeners in public spaces. He seemed to consider my wording and his options, looking away from me. He tried his best at keeping his cool. As much as I hated instilling fear in another person, it also gave me reassurance that my purposefully crafted reputation had really gotten out there.  
"Alright. But there are conditions!" he finally said.  
"I’m listening."  
"There can be no association with you. Credit has to go to… our people."  
"Agreed."   
The aforementioned reputation had brought me this far. Sophistos’ lab was almost in reach. The plan for the heist at Largo’s estate was missing one thing: A distraction. Something to get him out of the way. This was it.  
Though scared to death, the man before me was right. I could not, under any circumstances, allow myself to fuck up.   
The rebels were having a hard time sabotaging the Doge as it was. They couldn’t afford having their ideological cause being associated with a sell-sword whose loyalty was to nothing but money. And oh, money it did bring, indeed. My life could have been so much easier if I stopped giving a shit.   
I kept looking at Han while silently contemplating my situation. Meanwhile, he had taken out a piece of paper from his satchel and slid it over the table for me to read, probably fearing eavesdroppers. Clever.   
It said, "brig on the docks full of black powder.”   
Oof. A ship of that size delivering black power to the Doge’s fleet couldn’t be good. I didn’t need to know what they would have used it for.  
"Yeah, that definitely needs to go away," I commented, leaning back and keeping my tone as casual as possible.   
"That will be possible only tonight before they start distributing it," he said, now more focused again. As I nodded, he took the paper and held it over the candle flame in the middle of the table. Just like that, a plan to sabotage military equipment disappeared as if it was never there.  
"You cannot be seen, under no circumstances." I agreed with another nod. I felt noticeably better when Han seemed to feel bolder and more comfortable.  
"I know you take your payment in advance. Will 500 Ducats be enough?" A heavy-looking leather pouch appeared on the table.   
I briefly wondered whether I included a high price point in my reputation myself or if that came up on its own. The rebels must have been truly desperate to be willing to pay me that much.   
But more importantly, I wondered how the hell that scrawny looking man had made it all the way to the tavern with this pouch when I had my throat slit at the goddamn gates.  
"It’s alright. Just keep doing what you’re doing."  
With a wink, I stood and left the man alone at his table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this is it. My first fanfiction in English. A revival of something I've been sitting on for over six years. I didn't want to start at the beginning of the story again and starting here, right where the action is, seemed like a fun approach. As the tags say, this loosely follows the events of the game, but I added/re-imagined a lot of it so this doesn't read like a 2009 Video Game Script. The absurd amount of headcanon I have for this game could bite my ass at some point if I imply too much without explaining properly. I'm trying my best, but I also try to just have fun with this.
> 
> For an image of Scarlett in your head, check out [this](https://www.deviantart.com/the-crow-photography/art/Venetica-300A2917-692320058) gorgeous cosplay by [ The-Crow-Photography ](https://www.deviantart.com/the-crow-photography).


	2. Finding a Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlett doubts herself and needs to calm down. A certain mentor will surely be of help with that ...  
> Also, it's time to gear up for the heist.

“The Foreigner”. Little old me, sword for hire that would do anything for money, while being ruthlessly efficient at it. Right, you wish. My impressive kill count was what it was because I had let every single one of my contract targets live and helped them to get into hiding or flee the country. I knew, all the lies would find a way to bite me in the ass later.   
I left the tavern with an air of confidence I did not feel but I’d be damned if I let that stop me.  
It had just turned dark outside, so I had plenty of time to make a quick stop at the guild house to get changed and prepared for tonight’s outing. The corpse of the mugger I had left behind at the district gates was already gone. This time, I checked my corners properly.   
Damn it. Of course, I had “survived" that earlier encounter, but thinking back on it, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. It had been a random mugger who just happened to be at the right place at the right time. That seemed to be enough to get the jump on me these days. If I didn’t know better, I would have assumed he was sent to mock me. Or worse, to expose me.   
By the time I came home, I hadn’t managed to get control over that particular spiral of thoughts. I pressed my back against the door of my room at the guild house, trembling all over. Breathe, Scarlett. Control of mind and body, as Aeris tried to teach me for so long now.

Six weeks ago … 

"No, no, no, stop it, just stop it!" Aeris shouted at me. The sound of her loud, high, and cracking voice made me snap my eyes open. "Gah, this is hopeless …,” she concluded and briskly stomped a few steps away from me, pinching the bridge of her striking hawk-like nose. Her big, red-painted lips were pressed into a thin line.  
"I’m sorry,” I blurted out, still a little shaken from the experience, knowing what was coming.  
"A lump of bread has a longer span of attention than you!"  
I swallowed hard and dropped my shoulders.  
"Why can’t you pull yourself together?" Her pointed index finger, bent with age, was wiggling in front of my face. I locked my gaze to the ground. In the corner of my eyes, I could see her dark grey ponytail wagging from her agitation.   
"Why can’t you just let go of your thoughts like every other literate being in this building seems to manage?"  
I knew that she was aware of the challenge I was facing. I was supposed to harness the energies around me from something that I called "the upper layer" of the Twilight Realm. Diving in just one layer too deep would disturb restless or cursed spirits.   
It was the most common and the most dangerous mistake one could make when performing necromancy. It was also the number one cause of death for those who were bad at it.   
For me, interactions with the Twilight Realm were several times more intense than for any other necromancer. I had to take care not to dive too deep because unlike for living and breathing humans, that was an actual possibility.   
Going deeper, I could harness more energy, but I also risked losing connection to my living spirit on top of disturbing the locals. For this exercise, I was supposed to navigate the upper layer to locate a rune, while keeping my emotions and thoughts under control.   
Well, I’d like to see you go and try to find a specific crossing in a maze while hundreds of different voices tell you where to go and what to do.  
Aeris knew of my unique connection to the dead. I must have really fucked up if she still thought I did badly.   
I remembered when I applied for membership in the guild, every single one of her trials consisted of me proving something. She didn’t ask for references or my backstory. Moreover, she cut me off whenever I attempted to convince her with words. Show, don’t tell. Apologies were not the way to gain the favor of this teacher.  
I closed my eyes again and did as I was taught: Be mindful of my breath. I focused on how it felt in my nostrils, my throat and my lungs. Distracting thoughts or sensations were promptly recognized and let go again.   
It was true, I had difficulty concentrating on any one thing for a longer period of time. What I could do was focus on one thing. My breath.   
Aeris had stopped talking, but it would not have influenced my focus either way. The fresh memory of my recent failure made itself known … and was immediately let go.   
I kept focusing on my breath. It was always going to be there, so I was always going to have something to focus on. The next step would have been to empty my mind of any kind of thought.   
I couldn’t do that. That was proven by what must have been at least a dozen failed attempts, and that was just today.   
Instead, I knew what I could do: Slipping into the upper layer of the Twilight Realm. Because of the heritage of my father, I managed that with little to no effort. So I did it, just grazing the uppermost layer with my spirit. As if nothing had changed, I kept focusing on my breath.   
In the Twilight Realm, everything living feels out of place. The sound of my heartbeat and my breath were unnaturally loud. I took that in and kept breathing.   
More thoughts about my current experience crept up my mind again. I could hear faint voices that would have been much louder, had I have dived in deeper.   
None of that mattered right now. I firmly decided to focus on my breath again. Minutes passed like this. Slowly, I let in sensations, starting with what I felt in my body.   
In the Twilight Realm, it never feels quite right. But to me, because of who my father was, I also felt more right than I would ever feel in the world of the living.   
I allowed these sensations to stretch out to my surroundings, taking them in. I was still grounded in the physical realm, my body visible to the living. My spirit, however, was wandering the area, zeroing in on a particular sensation.   
The lux-rune drawn on the desk in front of me. All I had to do was to latch onto it with my spirit, provide it with energy, and cast it. Then I would have finally made it. After all this time and all these failures, I would … "Fuck!"  
It was like blowing out a candle. As quickly as the flame would disappear, my focus was gone and my hold on the Twilight Realm dissolved into nothing.   
Physical sensation hit me with full force from every direction. Overwhelmed, my head immediately hurt like hell.   
Out of instinct, I snapped my arm up to clutch at my head. Unfortunately, I wasn’t yet used to having a physical body again and thus handled it quite incompetently.   
With the force from my arm movement, I slapped myself with an audible smack, lost my balance and toppled over.   
“Ouch," was the only sound I could make, voice croaked. To add insult to injury - or rather, injury to insult - one leg of the stool I had sat upon had positioned itself nicely for my shin to fall on top of it.   
Aeris looked down at my indignant display with a condescending look. However, my brain helpfully came to the timely rescue of my self-esteem. Enough of my worn-out mind had bothered to start working again to know that this was how she always looked at people. And at everyone.  
"That was … different. Very interesting." See? I wasn’t an embarrassment to my teacher after all!   
"When it comes to the elementary skills of a necromancer, you’re truly a cripple." Nevermind.   
"For fuck’s sake, yes! Yes, it’s true, I can’t do it,” I burst out, "the whole ‚empty your mind‘ thing, I just don’t get it. Blame it to my upbringing or my laziness or whatever. But the one time I tried something different, I’ve made more progress than ever! I won’t let you…" I grind my speech to a halt when Aeris arched one eyebrow. That small gesture had a "don’t"-quality to it that could never be achieved with words. That woman really knew how to shut me up.  
“Sorry," I said and hastily shuffled to get back to my feet and stood up. She kept the eyebrow up. When we were at eye-level again, she curved up one corner of her mouth ever so slightly.  
"It’s true. You’re right, but you know I am, too. Usually, before I agree to take a student, I would test their concentration and focus. In fact, I’ve never seen anyone else interested in learning necromancy who was as bad as you at these things."   
Seriously, woman? I’d …  
"But I’ve also never seen anyone’s spirit stay in the Twilight Realm for that long." Oh.  
"How long … was it?", I asked hesitantly.  
"16 minutes."  
"Bollocks."  
"Ha. Indeed, it is not very practical to need that amount of time to ignite a small light source. But it is as you say, this was your most promising attempt, yet. You should be proud of yourself."   
That I was. Praise from Aeris meant a lot. She was not the person who would say that lightly.  
"It seems I misjudged you yet again."   
Aeris referred to the first couple of lessons she gave me when I joined the guild four months ago.   
Going through the basics, I turned out to be spectacularly bad. This was especially true for meditation, the most basic skill every necromantic apprentice needed to master so they could withstand the mental toll of this art.   
Aeris was about to throw me out when I decided that I would not fail like this. I slipped in and out of the Twilight Passage to appear and disappear in front of her and then on opposite sides of a wall. Looking back on it, it was quite a childish move, but it ultimately rewarded me with membership in the net of the mask.  
"How so?" I asked.  
"In the beginning, I rightfully doubted your ability. But you proved your talent to me so that I would teach you like any other student. Only now I truly understand that you’re not like any other student. We need to look at this differently."   
We went on and discussed how I managed to hold my focus this time and why I lost it. The more we talked, the more her strict features softened. It seemed that my achievement motivated her as a teacher as well.  
"So, just because I’m me, instead of going for an empty mind, having thoughts is suddenly okay?" I summarized.  
"Well, you have a more intimate connection with the Twilight than anyone else. It changes the entire dynamic between energy source, binding, and caster. I suppose you have to find your own way to make things work."  
"Well, that makes it kinda hard to teach me, doesn’t it?" I mused and shook my head.  
"Hard, but not impossible." I looked up at her. "Which is why I would continue your lessons if I were you,” she said with a warning tone, "You may have gotten better at focusing on a rune, but there are still a lot of things you’re terrible at."   
This time, I laughed at her evaluation and nodded with determination.

Right now … 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Thoughts came and go, but my breathing was always there. And so was Aeris. She had such a unique duality to her.   
Impatience was her trademark characteristic. Countless curses were uttered from her mouth at the incompetence of others and about how she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself.   
On the other hand, her patience with my training was ridiculous. For months she had ground her teeth, shouted at me, and pushed us both through the frustration.   
By now, I was halfway decent at controlling my focus in and out of the Twilight Realm and had a few spells under my belt. I was becoming more valuable as a guild runner as well. Aeris was the one who deserved credit for that.   
I had managed to calm down my pulse and the trembling had stopped. Now to get changed and prepare. One thing at a time.   
My room was nice. Just really, really, nice. The bed was soft and the sheets were warm. Already, two things I could never hope for before I came to Venice.  
There was a modest desk in the corner of the room where a small mountain of books waited to be read. With the help of a desk lamp that was custom-made out of a gripper’s glowing sack, I wasn’t restricted to daylight hours to get some reading done. Did I still procrastinate the hell out of it? You bet.  
In the other corner stood a bathtub. I still couldn’t get my head around having one at my disposal. All you had to do was grab a bucket and get some from the freshwater tank down the hall. There was a tiny stove under the tub, so you could even heat the water.   
I repeat, heated bathwater.   
There was another unexpected bonus to the room: the thickness of the walls. I could hear next to nothing from the neighboring rooms. I had more privacy in my guild quarters than I had in my own dreams.   
Without hurry, I turned the key to lock the room and started undressing. In retrospect, I wasn’t sure why I had chosen to venture into the arsenal district to meet the rebel contact with no armor whatsoever.   
Something stuck with me about that outfit Mattheo provided me when I had to leave the village. He had given it to me so I could leave at least properly clothed when I had lost almost everything else.   
I guessed that for every day that I survived in those hand-me-down clothes, I was reminded of his kindness and where I came from. Maybe I wanted the rebel contact to see that side of me. Maintaining that fake reputation of the killer-for-hire must have taken a toll on me. I was sure as hell sick of it.   
Thanks to my more than decent salary as a runner for the guild, I had another option to wear for tonight’s heist.   
The dark leather vest had decorative light accents, but they were still dark enough to allow blending into the shadows at night.   
It had a hood of dark cloth worked within the back of the collar and along with a black, I was always able to hide my face.   
The boots were also made of leather and ended just below the knees. They were perfect for guild work, as there was always a variety of terrain to traverse, sweaty feet in hot weather be damned.   
When confrontation was to be expected, a couple of leather bracers, shin guards, and greaves with metal reinforcements could be fastened over the sleeves, pants, and boots.  
Two belts held enough space for ingredients for spells, a hunting knife, a coin pouch, a compartment for transporting parchments, and climbing equipment.   
There was also a small pouch for some dried fruits and nuts. When you grew up poor, you won’t be able to stop thinking about food once you have access to it. I saw no shame in that.  
There were fasteners at the side of the vest for the strand holding the sheathe of my sword. Thanks to those, the strand would not dangle around awkwardly between my breasts. I know, crazy, the things you have to think about …  
Under the forearm, there was enough space for a hidden dagger on each side.  
My path to learning necromancy had not been as straightforward. Aeris had only managed to teach me by seeing things in me that I didn’t. She saw what I could do if I only found a way of doing it that worked for me.   
I wouldn’t let her down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces my personal lore about the net of the mask. The armor is loosely inspired by the Assassin Armor from the game, minus the stupid mask and that damned outfit's impracticality.


	3. Viva la resistenza!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlett is just a bit of experience and thinking things through away from being a badass motherfucker. With the rebel's mission for her, the stakes are getting higher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this dead fandom actually spawned a couple hits on this piece. This gave me the push I needed to finish this chapter. I have quite a bit planned ahead, so stay tuned for more ;)

Arriving at the port, I convinced myself I had a good feeling about tonight. For once, I was actually prepared. All too often, major stuff just happened to me. Sometimes I survived, sometimes I didn’t. But we already established how that wouldn’t pose an immediate problem.   
The alleys around the warehouses were mostly deserted this time of the night. Occasionally, I could feel eyes glaring at me from the darkness of the alleys while I passed them. With the kind of cargo the docks were currently holding, you could bet your ass it wouldn’t be dutifully patrolling guards.  
It was a little too easy to find the ship I was interested in. The ridiculous amount of guards standing watch around the pier was a giveaway. Unless it was a decoy. This could have been a valid strategy to protect the ship. But right now, among the vessels that were currently docked, it was the only one that had the appropriate size.  
I strolled along the street by the water for a few minutes, walking up and down to get a feel for the perimeter and figuring out the guards’ routes and rotations. During all of that, I stayed far away from the pier with the brig so I wouldn’t catch the attention of the guards.   
Thankfully, nobody knew “the Foreigner” was a member of the net or I would have to worry about potential fallout on that front, too. The net could not be exposed as a supporter of rebels undermining the government. They’d risk punishment for high treason, possibly even more if the Doge was feeling particularly pissed that day.  
My hood was up and my scarf was drawn up into my face. Of course, it was important that no one could see my face and identify me. But in a way, this also made me feel safe. My father did always say that I should be mindful of my enemies. There truly was no shortage of people attempting to off me every day, I’d noticed that myself, thank you very much. 

The almost full moon cast a soft light on the piers. Thanks to this generous lighting, I could make out several silhouettes from the distance shifting nervously from one foot to the other. They probably knew that they were guarding high priority cargo. Otherwise it would have been an option to try to pay them off or arrange a distraction to lure them away from their posts.   
"Nothing’s ever easy for me, is it?" I mumbled to myself, leaning my back to the brick wall of one of the warehouses, a ways off from the pier. I considered my options.   
Openly attacking them and coming out on top in the end was entirely possible. I would have to separate them first and should also think about how to leave the crime scene.   
It should be staged as if it had been a ragtag group of freedom fighters and not little old me. That still required for no alarm to be sound.   
Even if I did deal with reinforcements, I could not afford to leave any witnesses alive either way. And I was gonna need to stay at the top of my game for the rest of the night. Joining the heist exhausted could endanger the entire plan.   
"Jesus, listen to yourself." I sighed as I put the back of my head against the wall. There I was, willing to sacrifice potentially a dozen or so of lives to fulfill my mission. Which was about stopping powerful beings from hurting and killing people.   
"You’re such a fucking hypocrite," I thought.   
In my head, I could vividly imagine the voice of my brother accusing me of this. We hadn’t discussed the issue. He knew that I was growing into a capable fighter. More than once, we had happened upon each other while I had someone else’s blood on me. It hung heavily between us. He had grown out of the naive idealism he was known for at the village, but he was still my baby brother. At barely 16 years of age, he shouldn’t have to deal with this.   
Ever since all of this started, I had to do some grizzly shit in order to survive. It was as they said, once you get used to taking lives, it becomes normal.   
"Fuck, this isn’t me!" I thought. There had to be another way. My way.   
Right. I had to do things my way. Suddenly, it seemed so obvious. That ship was gonna go down in flames and not a soul would be hurt in the process.   
I pushed myself off the wall and started walking towards the ship. This time, I didn’t stop to stay out of sight. Instead, I effortlessly slipped into the Twilight Realm, invisible to living beings.   
The landing plank was out for guards to rotate posts in and out of the ship. They could be as vigilant as they wanted, I was impossible to detect.   
It didn’t take long to reach the cargo chambers in the lower decks. There were barrels everywhere, stacked on top of each other, at times reaching the ceiling.   
I slipped back into the Physical Realm, crouched behind a barrel stack and tried my best to take control of my breathing again. A guard was standing less than two meters away from me, looking about, fiddling his thumbs.   
As slowly and quietly as possible, I lifted one of the barrels’ lid and peered inside. It was black powder, alright. Well, at least it was a powder that was black.   
I took a handful of it and placed it in a line out of the barrel, along its walls and to a point on the wooden floor.   
I stopped and listened for any sounds originating from nearby guards, not daring to peer around the corner. Satisfied with the silence, I reached for my belt.   
To perform rune magic, three things were needed. Properly expressed intent, something to bind the right energies the right way, and energy to fuel the spell. Having a considerable amount of spirit energy as a personal reserve, the latter would be the easy part. Intent is usually expressed through concentration and will. But when a necromancer wanted to express intent in an abstract or complex way, rune symbology could do the heavy lifting.   
So far, the runes for light and fire were the only ones I could draw by heart, but it would be enough for tonight.   
That only left getting the energy binding right. Blood was the most reliable known material to use for drawing runes. Sure you could always slice open your wrist like the crazed necromancer that you are, but there are ways to make your life easier.   
With me, I brought a small syringe. The tip was sealed with wax, but it had a tiny hole poked in it. With enough pressure, you could coax small amounts of blood out of it. I had fastened the hairs of a paintbrush at the tip of the syringe. Even with my non-existent crafting skills, I had created a self-filling brush for drawing runes in the field.   
Apparently, no other member of the net had used runes outside the library for many years now. Runners didn’t bother with them, either. Well, I’m weird, we’ve already established that.  
The first fire rune was quickly drawn. Before I set off to the port earlier, I had rehearsed it a couple more times to be sure, even though I’d known it by heart for weeks. I repeated the process in another hiding place behind a barrel stack. Five fire runes in place all around the cargo decks should be more than enough to set off a chain reaction. The black powder would be nice enough to be doing the brunt of the work.   
Now, to get out. My time to ponder possible escape routes was cut short by the sound of nearby footsteps. Instinctively, I slipped into the Twilight Realm to avoid being seen. My vision blurred, countless voices started shouting at me and I knew I had fucked up.   
I had slipped in one layer too deep, cozied up to the dead. But it was too late to get out with the guard I had heard rounding the corner where I had been crouching just half a second ago. Even if I found a new hiding spot, I knew I usually lost orientation for a few seconds whenever I returned to the physical realm after going in too deep.   
"Focus on the here and now!" I chided myself and started running. I tried to run, but it felt like walking through water. At that, I could imagine my father scolding me that I had to do better.   
After what felt like hours but I knew - hoped - were minutes, I reached the main street. In a welcoming looking spot in the shadow of a warehouse, I returned to the physical realm. And almost immediately fucked up again.   
I couldn’t breathe and audibly wheezed to make up for the lack of oxygen. As quickly as I could, I snapped my hand in front of my mouth and prayed that no guard had caught my outburst.   
The quick motion was promptly punished. My whole body felt like it was in flames. I couldn’t blame it, since I’d just forcibly pushed into a realm where it wasn’t supposed to be.   
"Shit" I pressed out silently, but I seemed to be in the clear. Promptly, I had to face the next dilemma: I had to make sure no guards were inside the ship before I could set off the explosion. When I scouted the pier, it seemed like their rotations created a small window where that was the case. However, that guard who almost caught me just now proved me wrong.   
I had minutes, maybe only seconds until one of them would notice the drawings and remove them.   
"You didn’t really think this through, did ya" I accused myself, "Well, no choice but to improvise." So much for being prepared.  
Lacking time and other options, I did the first thing that came to mind.   
"Hey, dickheads!" I shouted at the guards by the ship, waving my arms around, hood drawn into my face. "The Doge’s days are numbered and you’re going down with him, along with this ship!"   
That caught their attention. The guards nervously looked at each other, not quite knowing what to do, when a shouting lunatic sprinted towards them with no intention of stopping.   
"Viva la resistenza!" I screamed as I tackled the nearest guard in my path to the ground. With the element of surprise, I had enough time to land a punch to his nose. It broke with an audible crunch.   
Wasting no time, I took off toward the water with the entire group of guards behind me. They were heavily armored, but furious enough to make it a close race.   
"There’s nowhere to go, rebel scum!" one shouted behind me. That drew a smirk out of me, knowing exactly where I would go. With no hesitation, I jumped head-first into the water.   
Panic immediately constricted my chest. The cold water put me in a state of shock and I reflexively opened my mouth to breathe. All I achieved was expelling the breath I’d been holding.   
Thankfully. I got my bearings quickly enough and easily slipped into the Twilight Realm again, this time mindful not to go in too deep. The instant I was settled, I felt my lungs relax.   
I made a "huh"-sound when I realized the implication. Made sense that in the realm of the dead, there was no need to breathe. This opened up a lot of possibilities.   
With a glance at the pier above me, I confirmed that I had successfully drawn the guards away from the ship. They were still busy trying not to topple over each other after braking so suddenly at the end of the pier.   
From the Twilight Realm, it was easy to locate the runes and supply them the necessary energy to activate.   
The explosion was muffled twofold from being underwater and in this layer of the Twilight. That didn’t make it any less glorious. One explosion set off the next. With a loud crack, the main mast gave and added to the cacophony. I could make out muffled curses and exclamations from the guards. Conveniently, that made them forget all about me for a moment. Which I took as my cue to get the fuck out of dodge.


	4. The Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlett joins up with a team of professional thieves. Epic Heist is happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that took a while. While I enjoyed writing the heist, it became difficult when I realized there was still a lot of stuff I had to make explicit since it all already made sense in my head.
> 
> Edit: Spelling and inconsistencies in character descriptions.

"You’re late.”  
I put my lip into an exaggerated pout but that did little to soften the expression of the accuser.  
"Well, blowing up a brig tends to take its time,” I snapped back. Three pairs of eyebrows rose in surprise.  
"Oh don’t look at me like that, it was full of black powder. I’m sorry, we should still be on schedule, right?"  
"Right, should be. What you did definitely drew attention and half a dozen guards to the docks,” Riccardo said. The man had apparently brought professionalism to breaking and entering for a good amount of years. Thus him being able to put up with my shit with grace was no surprise. The others respected him as their de-facto leader and bit back whatever comments they were about to make.  
"We saw the wife leaving earlier,” added Goro with a jerk of his head in the direction of the mansion. Bald and broad-shouldered, he looked a bit like a brute. The long scar across his right cheek made clear that crossing that guy would be the only mistake you’d ever make. But I already had the pleasure of getting to know him as a good-natured and level-headed person.   
"There’s only one thing,” he continued, "Largo’s confirmed to have entered the building, but nobody’s seen ‘im leave.”  
I couldn’t place Goro’s accent for my life. He inadvertently made sure you got to know it whenever he was busy picking a lock, mumbling gibberish to himself. It was fascinating to watch him work. He exhibited a level of mastery I’d yet to see anywhere else.  
I made an affirming hmm-Sound as I settled down next to the men. From the roof they had chosen, we had a direct line of sight to Largo’s mansion across the street. "Let’s see what we have here …,” I kicked myself inwardly before I could do something colossally stupid. I was used to doing such things alone, but I wasn’t this time.   
Riccardo was the living extension of Kitten’s will. Her will was the law in the Arsenal and it had made this heist possible at all. Reluctantly, her man and his associates had agreed to have me with them when they pulled it off. I would have ruined any of that goodwill if I just started disappearing into the Twilight World or wildly cast whatever spell came to mind. They just knew that I had … abilities.   
Instead, I explained, "I’ll look for signs of life force inside the building. That way, we’ll know where we have to be careful."   
I looked at Riccardo expectantly. He nodded in approval. That had to be enough for the others.   
I closed my eyes and set my sight onto the Twilight Realm. It took no small amount of concentration to dip exactly as deep as I needed to. Because I only grazed the outermost layer of the Twilight, I could see what I needed to see without physically entering. The living stood out as blurry bright silhouettes. Obstacles blocking line of sight in the physical world didn’t matter here. I quickly spotted eight guards scattered about the building. Most had run off to investigate the commotion at the docks, just as planned. Now, Largo should be here somewhere as well. Spotting him shouldn’t have been particularly hard, seeing as the guy was a creep and for some reason, that showed in the way his energy felt.  
"For fuck’s sake!” I cried out, back in the physical realm in a snap. I clutched the railing of the roof like a lifeline. The rogues looked at me in bewilderment. Riccardo was, of course, the exception, keeping up a professional mask of indifference. I found Largo, all right. "He’s there. Upper floor. Probably in the master bedroom… keeping busy."  
I closed my eyes and shuddered at the memory. I did not need that memory to add to the list of things fucking up my head. Sensing someone in the Shadow Realm goes beyond seeing and hearing them. What I had felt sensing Largo … Jesus, that guy was just plain evil. With a shake of my head, I tried to banish the memory.  
My antics didn’t go unnoticed by the others. Felice, Goro’s long-time partner, tilted his head and lifted one corner of his mouth up into a smug smile. The movement made the mess of his short hair fall to the side, some strands falling into his eyes. "What, he shagging somebody or something?" he suggested. I groaned and rolled my eyes. He cackled at my misery. The sound of his laugh, hoarse and a pitch too high, broke with the impression of his handsome looks. The man was a sight for sore eyes. The way his laugh reached his eyes in the form of tiny wrinkles gave him a cute boy-next-door look. To top it off, his handsome face went very well with his lithe, muscular form. The guy was objectively attractive. I needed to take a deep breath and yank myself back to the present.  
"As far as I can tell, there are four guards downstairs. Two near the front entrance, talking to a third that seems to make rounds along the main corridors. One guy’s by the back entrance. On the upper floors, the guards are concentrated near Largo. The two closest to him are standing next to each other, probably guarding the door. Would make sense if they were instructed that Largo doesn’t wanna be disturbed. Two others are currently sweeping the corridors of the left side of the building."  
"That’s it?" asked Riccardo.  
"That’s what I picked up on. I can guarantee there are no other life signs within the building. Can’t say if there are others standing by in the immediate area." To that, he nodded.  
"We proceed as planned. We’ll figure out a way to deal with Largo. Felice, you’re up,” he ordered.  
"Fucking finally", Felice smiled and stood up, bouncing on his feet. He took long strides of run-up and jumped. As if he weighed nothing, he grabbed a window sill on the neighboring building and climbed up the wall onto the roof. This was what he brought to the heist. There was not a ledge too high or a gap too wide for him. He stopped, took the rope at his belt and fastened it around the chimney with practiced movements. At the other end of the rope, he attached a grappling hook and got ready to throw it. The metal of the hook glistened in the moonlight as it flew across the street towards the other chimney. And missed.   
Instead, the hook bounced off the roof with an audible ’clang’. We all winced and feared that it was heard by a guard inside. Felice was already covering behind the chimney. But if a crossbow-armed guard with good aim decided to look out the window, the cover would useless from that angle. He had to know if it was safe to proceed or if he needed to make use of the two seconds head start to run for his life. And he needed to know now. Riccardo and Goro had already aimed their crossbows at the windows on the left side of the building. They were sacrificing our cover. If we were spotted now, we were all done for. I cursed under my breath and did my damnedest to concentrate once again. Slipping into the Twilight Realm, I could see that none of the guards had stirred and none were nearing the windows. Much to my dismay, I also saw that Largo was still at it. But this time, ignoring him was easier, my mind occupied with worrying for Felice. Who was safe, for now. To let him know, I stood up and visibly gestured towards the mansion.   
"It’s all good,” I explained to the others and just then realized that I was panting. Humans weren’t supposed to enter the Twilight Realm, ever. My breaking of that rule was starting to take a toll on me, non-human heritage or not. At the docks, I had already used that ability more than I usually did in one night. I was going to have a hard time doing it again or using any kind of spells.   
The thieves exchanged glances and nods. Thankfully, the grappling hook got caught by the edge of the roof. We weren’t out of the game yet. Felice wasted no time. Or rather, he did. He accented his jump with a front flip and softened his landing on the lower roof with a roll. Like what he just did was no big deal, he winked and waved at me. "Showoff", I murmured and rolled my eyes.  
"Gee, I wonder why,” commented Goro, stretching the ‚o‘ in ‚wonder’ with that accent of his. I shot an eyebrow up. Goro and Riccardo shook their heads as if that explained anything. Riccardo even cracked a small smile.   
“Whatever.”  
The rope up to the other roof Felice had just secured represented a quiet escape route. From there, we would have an easy time reaching the platform elevator. In the meantime, Riccardo had fastened another rope at the chimney next to us.  
As for getting in, Goro was already getting ready to do his part. From our vantage point, we would cross the alley via - you guessed it - rope. Felice easily caught and fastened it around the chimney. Goro went first and jumped to grab the taut rope and wrapped his legs around it. He was more agile than he looked. Scooting along, he made it to the other side. I followed immediately after. Meanwhile, Felice was already busy climbing along windowsills to reach and prepare our point of entry. Some of the ledges he held onto were so tiny that he made me question the concept of gravity. He had opened a window on the right side of the building by the time we made it all across. We regrouped on the roof above the window. With impeccable grace, Felice climbed back up to join us.   
"All right, big guy, you go first while I still have it in me", Felice chimed cheerfully and laid down on his stomach with his arms dangling over the ledge of the roof.  
"Screw you, It’s all muscle and ya ‘noh it,” Goro retorted. I snorted inelegantly. Felice beamed up at me, seemingly happy that I was enjoying their lighthearted banter.  
Riccardo put weight on Felice’s legs to secure him. Again, with more grace than you would expect from someone with Goro’s build, he trustfully jumped down to catch Felice’s arms and used them to swing under the roof’s overhang and through the window. Riccardo followed suit. When it was my turn, I couldn’t help but hesitate. I made the mistake of looking down. There were three stories of height that would make for a nice, probably fatal fall. Of the times I had died, falling from a great height and breaking my everything had not yet been among the causes. Growing up navigating in the mountains, I had no inherent problem with heights. It’s just that the urban landscape was out of my comfort zone.   
"Don’t worry, I’ll catch you", Felice said reassuringly and winked at me. That crooked half-smile again. What a distracting smile. Distracting indeed, as I must have been standing there for a couple of seconds, at least.  
"I’ve got this,” I said more to myself than to him. I managed to jump to grab his arms in just the right way. Swinging through the window felt a bit like flying. I landed with too much momentum and lost my balance. I instinctively rolled forward and only just managed to land on my feet. If you blinked, it might have looked intentional.  
With seemingly no effort at all, Felice swung himself through the window and landed without a sound. Goro set to work on the look of the room’s door while Riccardo started scanning the room for valuables. It must have been a guest bedroom or something similar. The bed was made but had obviously been abandoned for a few days. There were no personal-looking objects on top of the dresser or the nightstand. Parts of the decor that looked valuable nonetheless found their way into Riccardo’s cross bag. We all had one with us. It didn’t hold much, but we couldn’t sacrifice too much mobility. Riccardo had the best eye for what would sell well on the black market and would make the decisions what we’d steal. While I watched the men work, I didn’t notice Felice approach behind me. "See, I knew you could do it,” he whispered into my ear, voice low and quietly enough that it couldn't be heard by anyone else. There was so little distance between his mouth and my ears that the sound of his voice made me shudder. Felice brushed past me, a bit closer than necessary, flashed me a quick smile and turned around to follow Goro and Riccardo out of the room. Was he flirting with me? After all the bullshit that had been my day, I couldn’t help but feel flattered. I smiled back, allowing myself that last moment of ease. From here on out, we all had to stay sharp if we wanted to pull this off.   
The three thieves moved through the corridors like they hadn’t done anything else in their entire lives. Me, not so much. I tried my best to make as little sound as possible, but my best efforts still couldn’t hold a candle to the professionals. They knew as much when they signed on for taking me with them.   
It took no small effort on my part to keep up with where I was. The more corridors, doors, chambers, and halls we traversed, the harder it got. For my entire life, I was used to the wide-open spaces in the mountains and had never known mansions like this one. A couple of months stumbling around Venice didn’t change that. The entire entourage made barely a sound moving around. Occasionally, we stilled completely behind cover to listen for anyone coming. Since I seemed to have correctly anticipated the guards’ positions and patrol routes, there were no surprises until we found the hallway leading to the master bedroom. Each of the guys took positions around the corner leading up to it, watching all possible directions for someone coming while I stayed by Riccardo’s side. When we listened and couldn’t hear any sound coming from the bedroom, he looked at me expectantly. I bit my lower lip in apprehension. If I fucked up now, this could go downhill really bad really fast. I steeled my resolve and exchanged a silent nod with Riccardo.   
Though surprised, he took it in stride as I disappeared before his eyes. I had dived in too deep, but that was the least of my problems. Countless voices assaulted me. They didn’t even bother with how human hearing worked and went straight into my head. There was so much. An unseen force threatened to drag my body down to the ground into a puddle of limbs and bodily goo. My mental resistance did little to hold off the onslaught of forces that tried to expel me from where I shouldn’t be. Never should have been. After all that went down tonight, I was done putting up a fight. Forgetting why I’d bothered in the first place, I didn’t look for Largo or the master bedroom or anything. As if desperately looking for company, I automatically shot a look towards the nearest living being. Beings. One behind the other, dagger drawn.   
With a determination I did not know I still had in me, I firmly decided that the man before me would not die right now.   
There was still enough left in me to tell the cosmic order to zip it for a second and let me do what I needed to do. Time seemed to slow down, but I didn’t. I was behind the looming figure faster than I ever remembered moving. My brain didn’t have a chance to catch up with the force that I was. There was no thinking involved in what I did next.   
Crack.  
The sound of Largos neck snapping turned the heads of the three men. "The fuck?!" Felice blurted out and regretted it instantly, slapping a hand in front of his mouth. I was still too dazed to care if someone had heard. I just stood there for a while, coming down from a weird kind of high.  
Riccardo was faster in getting his bearings. He gestured to the others to gather and refocus on the target. When my brain started to kick into gear again, I allowed myself a few more moments to gather my thoughts since I knew I hadn’t felt any other life signs in our vicinity. I wasn’t clear on much back there, but whether the souls around me resided in bodies alive or dead, that’s something I’d always know. I still hadn’t moved when Riccardo touched my shoulder. "You good?" he asked me. I managed a weak nod. Physical movement was more arduous than I had anticipated. That effect would wear off soon enough. I hoped.   
Riccardo couldn’t begin to imagine what I was going through and probably assumed I was in shock about what I’d just done. "All good,” I finally answered, "out of juice, though."   
One more hard exhale, I fell into a rhythm of normal breathing again and looked at him. "Just please don’t expect me to do that shit again tonight,” I added with a tilt of my head. He gave me a curt smile and nodded behind me. Goro and Felice were already around the corner. “Right," I muttered and set to follow them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the descriptions of stuff and OC's might be all over the place. There even is a tiny bit of romantic tension if you squint. I swear it was completely unintentional and just came naturally xD. Just trying to have fun imagining epic heists and adventures game-Scarlett deserved but never had.
> 
> To be continued soon!


	5. The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes wrong. Badassery ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at summaries.

There was not a single goddamn thing in this world that came to me easily. I yelled as much out loud, but it didn’t change anything. All I could do was clutch my fist around my price and haul ass.   
Goro had made short work of the lockbox on Largo’s desk that contained the key to Sophistos’ lab. When I removed it, I tripped a wire that went behind the desk. Said wire triggered a mechanism in the walls. Ever since that moment, the ornate clock at the crown of the mansion’s roof started to make a deafening noise. Every couple of seconds, there was that deep, vibrating chime that was supposed to announce every full hour. There was no rhythm in it at all. The staccato was rattling everyone and everything awake. Guards who were privy to how the mechanism worked were now very aware of our position. It took no time at all before we encountered the first group of them.   
I intently focused on surviving. To anyone else, that would have been a priority regardless of the situation. The mental exhaustion I felt gave me enough of an idea of what would happen were I to so much as touch the Twilight Realm. I was fairly sure I would have been spat right out. What that would have done to me and the cosmic order, no idea. I had no interest in creating a paradox, so the best I could do was to stay alive.   
That train of thought got blown right out the window when I saw how Goro was attacked from two sides. Forgetting every training I’d ever had, I turned my back on an attacker and crossed the hallway in long strides. With the advantage of surprise on my side, I easily managed to spin around the guard attacking Goro from behind and slice his throat open with my sword. Goro was just turning around at that moment to receive the splash of blood straight to his jacket and face. „Much obliged“, he panted and swiped a hand over his mouth. Spurred on by adrenaline, I heard the next attack even before Goro turned to look in its direction. I dodged the stab of the lance to my stomach. The swing to the side cost too much balance to be fully intentional but got me out of the way regardless. Goro wasted not a second, stepped in to fill the gap and swiftly took out the lance-bearer.   
I used Goro’s gaze as an indicator where to look for the others. The fighting had separated us in the gallery. We were just around the corner and could hear the fighting. When we sprinted towards Riccardo and Felice. The smell of blood crept up my nose. The clashing of blades produced sounds that were all too familiar. The smell of smoke, fire and seared flesh filled the air. Only that it didn’t. There was no fire anywhere. I was in San Pasquale again. It was the night of the raid. Smoke made it hard to breathe. Deafening screams made it hard to think. My swimming vision further added to the disorientation I felt when my knees threatened to give out under me. With enormous effort, I lifted my head and focused my gaze forward. The feeling of helplessness crashed over me as I watched the guards corner Riccardo and Felice. There were both covered in blood all over, though I couldn’t tell whose it was. In frustration, I tightly gripped the handle of my sword. That’s right. The grip of my sword, not the neighbor’s fire poker. „Not this time“, I hissed mid-sprint and swung at one of the guards who had his back turned to me. I aimed low to slice the guard’s knee tendons. As expected, he went down screaming in pain and blindly lashed out behind him. I let the momentum carry me forward, sliding on my shinguards and bending backward to avoid the retaliation. When I was sure I had dodged the blow, I quickly turned around to finish the job. The enemy’s last swing had left him wide open. Nothing stood in the way of my sword latching onto his neck. With a full-body turn, I made the head fly right off. The next guy wasted no time and took a stab at me with his lance. „Oh, no you don’t“, I whispered with a dark grin. I dodged with an efficient move and grabbed the lance with my free hand. While there was still momentum left in its forward-swing, I yanked it to adjust the direction, making its bearer fall onto my sword. No more than a hand-width away from my face, he stared at me, wide-eyed. He made a gurgling sound as blood from his punctured lung filled his mouth and poured out. My sword made a wet slurping sound when I pulled it out of the body. It cut the silence that I hadn’t noticed had fallen upon the hall. I looked around and caught three familiar pairs of eyes. Their expressions spoke of a subsiding adrenaline rush. To be exact, it was two pairs and one eye. Felice held a hand to the side of his face that must have been injured pretty badly. I gave the men a quick once-over to make sure no one was bleeding out. They all were a bit worse for wear, but alive nonetheless.   
„We have to get out of here“, I said. I took a look around, both to assess possible escape routes and to avoid being surprised by backup coming down on us.   
„Our escape route is out. We tried going for it, but the rope’s gone. They must’ve noticed“, Riccardo stated, while Goro heaved Felice’s arm over his shoulder to steady him. I let out a curse and pondered my options.   
„I may have another idea“, I blurted out before I could change my mind. Aeris would kill me.  
„Come on, follow me“, I said and took point. I made my way towards the stairs, sword in hand and battle-ready. Things stayed quiet while we were making our way down. „Make for the window at the end of the hall of the east wing. The canal’s directly below. The water’s only about a meter in-depth, but that should make for a safe enough jump. Follow the canal in the direction of the port. One corner around, there is a gate. Use the indentation as cover and wait for me there.“  
„What about … you?“, Felice asked weakly.  
„I’ll buy you the time to do it“, I winked and exchanged a nod with Riccardo who was already herding the other two into cover.   
Deep breaths. „Hey, asshats!“ Control of mind and body. „Come and get me!“, I yelled to anyone who could hear. When I started to hear the shuffling of chainmail boots on the floor below me, I made my way into the west wing, effectively cornering myself. „How about you dickheads stop wanking for a minute and catch that nasty intruder?“ Indistinct yelling announced a wave of heavily armored guards pouring out of the stairwell. Hot on my heels, they blindly followed the voice taunting them, completely oblivious to the three thieves making off in the opposite direction.   
„Oh shit“, I cursed when the stairwell wouldn’t stop spitting out more and more guards. I had a plan to handle maybe half a dozen. I even would have factored in that the ones guarding the building’s entrances were better equipped than the others. But their number was growing and I suddenly didn’t like my plan that much anymore. I stopped running when there wasn’t anywhere else to run. I had purposefully fucked myself by maneuvering into a dead end. The guards running in front were already close enough to make eye-contact. One gave me a shit-eating grin. He was drinking in the sight of me, cornered and at the end of my wits. My hood was still up, but my clothes were tight enough that they left little to imagination concerning my gender. Said guard evidently took notice of that, accentuating his discovery with a creepy lick of his lips. I didn’t even bother to hide the shudder it gave me.   
„Fuck you“, I hissed at him.   
I was the apprentice of Aeris Cortez and if there was one thing she managed to teach me besides necromancy, it was not to take shit from anyone. Their numbers wouldn’t stop me.  
When I sheathed my sword, it gave the guards pause. I wouldn’t just surrender after all that, it couldn’t be that easy, could it? Confusion spread. Some took a step back when they saw my face contorting into a twisted smile. I couldn’t take them all out, but I would overcome them. I just had to find my own way to do it.   
Surprise froze the guards in their place for a second when I broke into a sprint straight towards their formation. Faster than the poor guy could react, I slapped my hand into his face, covering his eyes and forehead. He went down on his knees screaming as he was suddenly haunted by horrifying visions, his face twisted into a pained grimace. The men standing next to him recoiled. That spell used to be disproportionately difficult for me. It was valuable for any necromancer to disable enemies from a safe distance. Mentally crossing that distance was what had me fail in learning the damned spell for so long. But since I wasn’t one for safe distances anyway, I bypassed that problem by casting in direct contact with the eyes and head of the vision’s recipient. I got to another before he could recover from the shock of what he was seeing. Clawing at their own eyes and letting out infernal screeches, they put on a good show for their comrades. Enough of the guards were paralyzed by the display that I could make my way through them without having to take out every single one. A few took swings at me with their weapons, some hesitant, some with fear-fueled vigor. But it was only ever one at a time that dared to try. One suffered the same fate as the others before him. Another was smart enough to swing his head back to avoid my hand getting in contact with his face. Unfortunately for him, said face was still in range for my hidden dagger. A hearty flick of my wrist made the straps on my forearm snap open. With the remaining momentum, I grabbed the dagger and planted it into his eye. In the meantime, my off-hand had fumbled off my belt what would be my ticket to a successful escape.  
„Demons!“, and other cries of horror faded behind me as the smoke pellet set to work. Nothing left to do but to run for it. With a peak over my shoulder, I saw that no was behind me, but I heard a determined „Get her!“ from just around the corner.   
„Oh bless you beautiful idiots!“, I exclaimed when I saw that my companions had left the window open. I sped up and used the length of the hallway as a run-up.   
„It’s actually not that dangerous“, Felice had bragged when he had demonstrated his abilities at our first meeting, „I just always have to keep one thing in mind.“ I had still been slack-jawed at the acrobatics I’d just witnessed. He’d lapped up my attention. „I’d rather break my legs than this beautiful face“, he’d winked at me.   
Legs before face. Seemed simple enough. The brief moment after the jump off the windowsill, I felt like I was flying for the second time tonight. I was starting to see why Felice had to like this so much. Almost too late, I remembered to pull my legs up. An instant later, I would have body-slammed the wall of the building on the opposite side of the canal. Thanks to Felice’s advice however and the ridiculous amount of luck I had, I reacted in time. I landed the right way and immediately pushed my legs back from the wall. The canal was now directly below. Legs extended and slightly bent, I landed in the canal with a loud splash. The water absorbed much of the impact, my bent knees doing the rest.   
Knowing I only had seconds before the guards would reach the window and see where I had escaped, I waded forward as fast as possible. As was to be expected, the water slowed me down considerably. I decided that a little disgust was worth minimizing the risk of being spotted. Head-first, I dove in to reach the corner submerged under the water. I couldn’t see shit in the murky canal water, so I didn’t even try. At least that made sure I was harder to spot from above. My eyes thanked me for keeping them closed. I used my hands to navigate the canal instead. When I emerged after I passed the corner, I found myself with Riccardo’s dagger at my throat. „Christ!“, he exclaimed. He immediately retreated when he recognized me which, granted, couldn’t have been easy with all the canal muck that graced my face and hair. The other two never left their cover in the indentation by the canal gate. I opened the gate with the key in my boot. The lock was fastened to one of the metal bars, but it was hidden by an illusion rune. Whoever knew it was there, could interact with it, even without seeing. „The water’s gonna be deeper soon, so prepare for a short swim. It’s only a few meters until the pier, though.“ I only remembered to warn them because I became aware of the weight of my nearly forgotten cross-bag full of valuables. I didn’t know whether the others still had theirs or if they could even swim. For the moment, I took their lack of protest as confirmation that they were gonna be fine.   
Wooden planks that were hastily hammered together passed for a pier in the catacombs of Venice’s canals. A few twisted corridors and several hidden doors later, we finally found it.   
The Arsenal District’s safe-house of the net’s guild runners. It was no small offense to bring outsiders here, but I didn’t care. We needed a safe place to hide and lick our wounds. Not literally, as there was a stash of medical supplies available. I made a beeline for them immediately while Goro helped Felice sit down on one of the benches. There were strips of cloth suitable for cleaning and bandaging wounds as well as several large barrels of freshwater. The net of the mask also didn’t turn its nose at the science of medicinal herbs.   
Venice was a city of weirdos but it was also remarkably free of the church’s influence. Which had made it an ideal place for the net to settle down in the first place. Although, if there would ever be a confrontation with the church’s inquisitors, the medicine practiced by guild members was probably quite low on the list of offenses compared to the actual necromancy. Still, the net of the mask had access to medicine you couldn’t get anywhere else. Partly, because an important specialization was the treatment of cursed wounds. I hadn’t been a guild runner for that long, but I had learned enough to make sure the three thieves would each walk away from the job with no permanent damage.   
As soon as I had taken everything I needed from the shelves, I took off my bag, arm bracers, and gloves and set to work.   
„Can I?“, I asked Felice, who was still clutching his hand over his eye. Reluctantly, he removed it. Only when I had cleaned off enough of the blood, I could properly see the ghastly wound. „That bad, huh?“, he commented. My facial expression seemed to have betrayed my thoughts.   
„Badass’d be the word I’d use“, I offered instead. That got him smiling again. The cut went straight from his forehead, over his eye and cheekbone. It wasn’t deep, but the edges were serrated. It was at great risk for infection and there was no way it wouldn’t leave a scar.   
„Can you open your eye for me?“, I asked while my mind was already running three steps ahead, planning what I had to do.   
„For you, anything.“ I rolled my eyes but had to crack a smile. True enough, he could still open his eye. So far so good.   
„You two“, I addressed the others, „feel free to clean your own wounds as far as you can. Buckets and rags are by the shelves. But for the love of god, don’t mix them between you. Each one sticks to their own. I’ll see to you in a moment.“  
„Why would that …“, Goro started.  
„Just do it!“, I cut him off, „gotta tend to Pretty Boy here, first.“ At that, Felice cracked a smile and tilted his head.  
„Under different circumstances, I would’ve looked forward to that.“ I returned his smile, but it was mixed with bitterness, knowing what was to come. „But I have a feeling I won’t“, he added when he saw me picking up my supplies.   
„Nope, you really won’t. Bite down, this is gonna hurt like a bitch.“ He complied hesitantly and bit down on the piece of wood I handed him. It was effective at muffling his curses while I cleaned the wound with an alcohol-soaked rag. It was the pure stuff, too, not some watered-down liqueur. Soon enough, it was over and everyone was patched and bandaged up.   
Usually, being alone in a small room with three topless, very well-built men would have done something to me. Apparently, the task of piecing together and applying the necessary medical knowledge had kept my adrenaline high going. At least, it felt that way when I slumped down on the bench next to Felice, deflated.   
„So, how did ya know all that stuff?“, Goro asked me, gesturing toward the bandage on his arm. The other two looked at me expectantly.   
„Combine guild runner training with growing up taking care of a younger brother who couldn’t go two steps without tripping over something.“ I tried to lighten up the atmosphere, but the moment had come where I had to come clean and I dreaded it.  
„Didn’t know you were a runner“, Riccardo stated.  
„You didn’t ask“, I sighed. I didn’t question that Riccardo was among the people knowledgeable enough to be privy to the ways to the net’s runners. Probably, that also meant he was aware of the implications. Kitten had put me in contact with his team as something along the lines of a „necromancer that works as an assassin and pays for help with a heist“. The gaps were filled with rumors I had planted myself. Not much is known about the net of the mask or its runners to outsiders. Except for the certainty that they had to be loyal and trustworthy as there were regularly handling secrets. And, that runners didn’t work for outsider’s money. Even the notion was shunned upon.   
„Doesn’t add up, I know“, I tried to preempt any further assumptions. It had been so nice to feel like I was part of a group, one with a clear purpose at that. For once, I did what I felt was right instead of having phantoms put the burden of expectations on my shoulders that were damned impossible to meet.   
„Look, I’d like to be honest.“ I let out a heavy sigh before continuing. „It’s horseshit. The being-an-assassin-for-hire thing. I needed to have that reputation to get the monopoly on the contract on Mercutio’s life who in turn put me in contact with Kitten.“  
„Who then arranged tonight’s heist“, Felice concluded. I confirmed with a nod. He seemed uncharacteristically quiet and somber since I had finished patching him up. The other two seemed to be in deep thought, as well. IIn their profession, in the life they led, being able to spot a liar could make the difference of life and death. I made them fail at that. I had played them, lied to them.  
„Report to Kitten what you will“, I offered, „I don’t care if the con blows up. Didn’t like it in the first place, anyway“, I spoke quietly and stared at my feet, not ready to look at them. Even though they had had every reason to be suspicious, they respected, integrated me into the group and trusted me. There were moments where that had actually made me forget my own agenda.  
„Didn’t fit you, either“, Felice suddenly broke the silence. My gaze snapped up to see that wicked half-smile of his, no less expressive with bandages wrapped around half his face. Goro and Riccardo had visibly relaxed their postures, too. I was incredulous at their reaction.   
„And what, pray tell“, I chuckled nervously, „would fit me, instead?“  
„Could make a fine burglar someday“, Goro supplied. That comment finally broke me. I burst out laughing. The others joined in, equally overcome by relief, pride and the companionship we shared at that moment. The Heist had gone all kinds of wrong, but we made it out in one piece. And I couldn’t ask for better company to enjoy that feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a glimpse into my thoughts: 
> 
> \- It was ... corny? Yes. Historically inaccurate? Yes. All over the place? Also yes. Really really fun to write? HELL YES. 
> 
> \- I ended up liking and developing the three thieves a lot more than I originally intended to, so they may reappear in the future. Especially Felice, that handsome little shit. 
> 
> \- I'm trying to strike a balance between the fact that Scarlett is not that experienced yet, but has her badass moments. Since she did work her ass off for those, I want them to feel earned.
> 
> \- I put a lot of thought into how I want to continue this and I definitely will.
> 
> \- Writing this has been such a blast, even if it is just for the hell of it. Maybe one of the 9 hits this piece got so far even enjoyed it :)


	6. Firstborns and Mirror Images

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the heist entails socializing, being up way too early and other mundane stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has reached 12 hits by the time I’m posting this chapter. I never thought I’d get even a single one. Thank you all! (Even if you just clicked on it by accident.)
> 
> After getting a delightful first comment of someone who knew the (german) original version of this story (link in the notes in the beginning) I went back to check on it and HOLY BALLS that old thing received over 2k hits in the years since I abandoned it. Apparently, there are more than three people in this fandom, after all.
> 
> In that spirit, enjoy the update!

I appreciated being a member of the net of the mask for many reasons. One of them was their foresight. Not in the literal sense. More so than normal people, Aeris and the other masters just tended to think of more ways life could go horribly wrong. The safe-houses around the city were evidence of that. They were meant for guild runners who - for whatever reason - needed a safe place to crash. Transporting secrets and clashing with creatures of the Twilight was a dangerous job. Since they knew best, Aeris had let the guild runners design and equip the safe houses according to what they thought would be a good idea to have. More than once, I was thankful for the decent amount of medical supplies available. What I appreciated most, however, was the food. Every safe-house held a stash of edibles that could be stored for a long time. When you grow up constantly worrying about what and when your next meal is going to be, knowing that there would always be something available was a bliss. I picked a few things from the shelves that held dried fruits, pickled vegetables, grains, seeds, nuts and a whole bunch of other things. I passed them around Riccardo, Goro, and Felice who had gotten dressed in the meantime.  
"Now I feel like I’m mooching off of ya", Goro commented but took the food I handed him regardless. The heist had been exhausting for every one of us.  
"What will the help of the net cost us?" Riccardo’s tone was completely serious. He did make a valid point in expecting the use of a safe-house not to be without consequence.   
"All of your firstborns", I deadpanned. I heard a quiet sound from the direction where Felice was sitting that was akin to a stifled yelp. I shot him a look that said "Seriously?"  
If Mercutio was Kitten’s right-hand man, Riccardo was the left hand, skilled and well-connected. Both were known to be equally loyal.   
"Nothing will befall you", I explained, "but I would appreciate it if the use of this facility would stay between us. That would include the ones you report to."   
"Don’t worry, Kitten’s got nothing on us. We owe her nothing but the cut", Felice assured me. I took in the information, nodded to myself and took a bite.  
"Way to make your associations clear to an outsider", Goro added with an eye-roll. He kept his voice quiet and his gaze to a spot across the room and thus betrayed that he was uncomfortable saying it.   
"Way to discredit the one that saved your big ass. Are you actually shitting me, Goro?"   
"‘m just saying you could be more careful with where you’re throwing ’round information. Tonight, we learned the hard way that not every run-along source can be trusted!" I silently watched the exchange. It was awkward sitting between the two. Suddenly, I remembered I had something in my mouth and tried to inconspicuously continue chewing. I don’t think I’d ever heard anybody chew that loudly.  
"So what, the housekeeper snitch I dug up was full of shit. Scarlett saved all of our lives tonight! That’s a person I’ll gladly give my firstborn!" Felice’s voice was firm and determined. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the reference. In response, he winked at me and flashed me his signature half-smile.  
“Felice is right, Goro", Riccardo admitted, "Scarlett, you did save our lives. We owe you our silence and more." He had the unmistakable air of a leader about him. It must have been in the way he stood, firmly, with arms crossed. He was relaxing his back against the wall and looked like nothing could move him from that spot. He always directly looked at the people he addressed. That was something I’ve come to realize people of status higher than a mountain tree didn’t like. Especially from a lady. I understood how it could make people uncomfortable. With an iron gaze like Riccardo’s, you’d feel like there was no chance but to comply. I was not exempt from that effect and felt somewhat hesitant to dismiss the debt owed to me.  
"It will be…"  
"That’s the bloody point!", Goro interrupted me and rose up from his seat. "We almost bought it on what should have been an easy job!"  
"But we didn’t! Get over it", Felice yelled. Goro let out a frustrated grunt and his posture deflated.  
"You might bounce back from this one just fine, but how about next time when you don’t have any spare firstborns to give away, huh?" He brought up a serious point, but I barely managed to not let out a very un-ladylike chortle.  
"Which I guess is your needlessly complicated way of saying you don’t want to lose me." With the joke, Goro had shown that he wasn’t truly angry at his partner but worried. Of course, Felice had picked up on it. He wore the shit-eating grin to prove it. The atmosphere in the room felt lighter instantly.  
"Course I don’t, ya annoying lil’ shit", Goro said and went to playfully rub his knuckles on Felice’s head. The smaller man fruitlessly tried to push him away, giggling. Riccardo and I exchanged a smile at the heartwarming display.  
We all went on to enjoy our food and make ourselves comfortable - as far as that was possible with the given lodgings. It would be safer to return once the night was over. In our present states, none of us was up to handle unpleasant surprises. Sure, Kitten’s gang ruled the Arsenal for the most part. However, nights in Venice held other things in store for those foolish enough to take to the streets after dark. We passed the hours making conversation, spiced up with hearty banter and the occasional sass. I opened up and told them of my upbringing and how I became a member of the net. I admitted that the only reason I was in such a privileged position was my talent for magic and necromancy. I left out the details, though. I made sure to keep stories about myself abstract and vague, but engaging enough so I didn’t give off the impression that I was hiding something. That had become more and more natural to me, courtesy of the net’s teachings of secrecy.  
Riccardo opted for a similar approach. He obviously couldn’t reveal details of the gang’s operations to just anyone. But even he, the ever professional, opened up a little. He divulged one or two things about himself and his wild - and much less professional - youth. Goro and Felice shared stories from the years they’d worked together. Their complementary skillsets had made them compatible partners for a number of heists. With time, they had become close friends that trusted each other with their lives.   
It was at the ass-crack of dawn that I dared to entrust my life to the surface again. Riccardo was adamant to report back to Kitten with the loot as soon as possible. We each went our separate ways, but not before the men expressed their gratitude again. Before I could dismiss it, Felice initiated a startling group hug.  
“Stay safe”, I whispered to myself when they were almost out of sight. The walk back to the guild house was uneventful. There was little traffic at this hour. The sun graced the pebble of the Inner City with timid orange rays. My discomfort grew the closer I got to the guild house. I needed a bath and I needed it yesterday. Not to mention the lack of sleep that was starting to catch up to me.   
Sleep is something members of the net of the mask apparently weren’t supposed to need. There were already quite a number of people buzzing about in the guild house, looking busy. My state seemed to be obvious to every guild member I passed on the way to my room. Nobody stopped to talk to me. Just one, a familiar face, greeted me and then went on his way. “Hey, Edmundo!”, I called after him, “Do you know if Leon is in?”   
I uncomfortably remembered having a fight with my brother before I had made for the Arsenal. About what, I couldn’t recall. It was that stupid and insignificant.   
“I’m afraid you just missed him. He went out for an assignment not too long ago”, Edmundo answered. Even now, at ass o’clock, he looked all prim and proper, not a wrinkle in his vest and not a hair out of place. Nothing like when I had first met him at the Water Gate, bloodied and beaten, the once inconspicuous cloak hanging off of him, shredded to pieces by torturing strikes of blades. I had saved his life that day. We had little in common and our interactions were consistently professional. Nonetheless, knowing at least one person had helped me integrate into the net when I first joined. And he hadn’t spared any effort in helping me get comfortable. Small gestures that did little to outweigh a life debt, he found. I, however, was fine with the way it was.  
“Thank you nonetheless. Take care now.”   
“Until next time.”  
With no opportunity to address my brother anyway, there was nothing standing between me and a bath. It had taken no time at all to get used to the fact that I had access to one so easily. It was a commodity I had never dreamt of having. My room was a place where I enjoyed many such luxuries. I felt a familiar surge of gratitude and relief every time I entered it, even now, after I’ve been to Venice for months.  
As soon as I’d made sure the water was beginning to heat up, I started undressing. I hadn’t noticed how exhausted I was until I started getting rid of my gear. Each belt unbuckled and each strap undone made me feel lighter. I didn’t even know that I actually weighed that little. In the midst of the process of disrobing, my gaze fell upon my image in the standing mirror.  
The simple, overlong undershirt was the last bastion standing between me and nudity. It left little to the imagination as far as my figure went. Lithe and muscled, with just enough bust and natural curves to not be considered boyish. It was a far cry from the upper-class ideal of femininity. That never even occurred to me until I came to Venice. In San Pasquale, I never paid any mind to such things.   
On the wooden stand by the mirror was a lightly oiled piece of cloth, waiting to be used. I took it and started to remove the coal around my eyes. Charcoal around the eyes, that was a me-thing. Once, when I was ten years old, I accidentally smeared some of it around my eyes while playing in the dirt with my brother. Leon commented that it made me look fierce, like a vicious demon. I took the sassy remark as a compliment. From that day on, I did it on purpose, just to see how long it would take for people to not care anymore. Over time, I had perfected applying it to achieve a natural-looking, less noticeable fade-out. It made for a great effect to accentuate the dark brown of my eyes. It was empowering to have a thing that made me feel unique. While Jarta disapproved of me making myself less agreeable, she could sympathize with the intent and never stopped me.   
With the coal gone, the usually inconspicuous freckles on my cheeks were more prominent. My skin tone was light but toned from the mountain sun which was, again, far off from society’s ideal. Interestingly, the utilization of brightening cosmetics was where female guild members drew the line. They knew better than to come into contact with the toxic chemicals that were used in making them. The net of the mask was all about the unrestricted and unlimited access and usage of knowledge. Gender didn’t play a role in the pursuit of those goals and neither did the physical appearance. The proportion of members that always appeared proper and groomed was probably just used to it from growing up.   
To finally get ready for my bath, I lost the shirt and undid my hair. It was a mess after what it had been through in the last 24 hours. It was of a dark brown and wavy, just shy of deserving the definition of curly. That meant it went everywhere it damn-well pleased. If I didn’t pay attention to it for a while, it would stick out in odd directions. To avoid it getting in the way, I always tucked the front strands back with a copper brooch. Those strands softly fell over my eyes when I loosened the brooch and placed it on the stand by the mirror.  
A sprinkle of bath salts was all it took to make the room smell heavenly. The water had reached a good temperature in the meantime. It was just on the right side of “almost-too-hot” and I couldn’t wait, so promptly turned off the mini-stove under the tub.  
A week’s worth of tension melted from my body when I lowered myself into the water. I was used to ice-cold mountain rivers and lakes for the occasional dip. Now, I got to enjoy the divine feeling of heat prickling all over my skin, loosening knots and twists in my muscles. I closed my eyes and eased my head over the edge of the tub behind me. Letting myself float in the water made me feel weightless and helped me relax further. Anyone who’d dare to come barging in right now, I’d fucking murder. I hadn’t felt this at peace in weeks.   
That feeling never left as I washed my hair and scrubbed my skin with a sponge. My thoughts stayed diffuse and adrift for a while longer after that. I toweled off, threw on a nightgown and took care of the tub water. I relished how smooth my skin felt to the touch, as opposed to the usual protective layer of dust and grime. As I passed the mirror again, the sensation of touch was supplied by an image. The reason for parts of my skin being less than soft was especially visible. Streaks of scarring were scattered all over my arms, legs, and upper body. Everywhere from the mountains, to the coast, to nearly every part of the city, I had found masters who’d been willing to teach me how to fight. That didn’t mean it was easy or that I had stopped making dangerous rookie-mistakes. The circumstances by which I was unable to die, they were what set me onto this path. Incidentally, they were also enabling me to walk it at all. Being able to come back from death allows for learning by the method of trial-and-error. With an error that painful, you learn fast. “How far I’ve come,” I mumbled to myself, still observing my image in the mirror. I wasn’t necessarily gawky, but I had always had the reputation to be a little clumsy. This was why it was out of the question for me to ever leave the village. Until there was no other choice.   
I refused to continue that train of thought, knowing where it would lead me. I turned away from the mirror and stretched. It got a yawn out of me, reminding me again how exhausted I was. I wasted no time and face-planted on the pillow of my bed. Clean and relaxed, it took me no time at all to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to you if you strapped in for this slower chapter. Next time, more stuff will happen, I promise! The interactions at the safe-house and Edmundo’s cameo were super fun to write. Both weren’t planned and just … happened. I recently noticed I’ve been applying German comma rules for >15k words. Whoops. Sorry if it bothers anyone, could take some time before I go back and fix it. A lot of plot is planned out and the quarantine leaves me with a lot of free time on my hands. Actually receiving hits and a comment made my day! I am PUMPED to continue this. Stay safe everyone!


	7. Mountain Sunsets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I’m posting this, I’m still busy getting some editing and beta-ing done for earlier chapters. Buuuut here you go anyway.

“But the chicken,” I giggled and managed to set down the bucket of feed at the last moment and thus avoided dropping and spilling it. My hands instantly had something more enjoyable to do. Benedict’s were way ahead of me and had already found a way down the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. I snaked both my arms around his neck and held on for dear life as he started to kiss me silly.  
“They’ll survive,” he breathed in between gasps of breaths before our lips crashed against each other again. The cockiness in his tone made me grin into the kiss and turned me on further. I gave as good as I got, if the growing bulge pressing against my groin was any indication.  
Benedict’s kissing was becoming more desperate and his hands suggestively traveled further downwards. But I wasn’t having any of it. He’d have to work for it now. It seemed only fair since he’d interrupted me while I was working in the first place.  
I broke the kiss and pushed back against his chest. Our eyes found each other, oozing lust and adoration. He didn’t dare make a move and stared at me reverently, holding his breath.  
When I started peppering his jawline and the side of his neck with kisses, that breath was released in a gasp and his eyes rolled back in his head. The faint idea of a growing stubble grazed the skin of my face when I applied gentle suction on the sensitive skin.  
“You’re amazing,” Benedict breathed out.  
Meanwhile, I fumbled with the waistband of his pants. I didn’t come very far, though. I felt strong, calloused hands on my cheeks guiding me into another wet kiss. At the same time, I was turned and had my back pressed against the wall.  
Benedict held my face in place with his hands and purposefully slowed down his assault on my tongue. Instead, he poured all his love and admiration into the kiss. It was gentle, almost innocent, but the way his thigh ground between my legs was telling a different story. At that moment, I knew nothing of what was around me, nothing but him, and only that I needed more.  
“Hey Scarlett, have you seen… oh, come on!”  
“Leon!” I cried out.  
I felt startled, indignant and angry at the same time. Those three emotions drowned out any embarrassment I might have felt. Leon was pacing around, rubbing his knuckles against his eyes. It looked as if he was trying to erase the image from his mind. Clearly, unsuccessfully.  
Benedict was faster in composing himself. With a drawn-out sigh, he straightened up. Gratefully, his over-shirt was long enough to cover the otherwise very obvious souvenir from our encounter.  
“What is it?” He let his voice drip with frustration, but it wasn’t directed at Leon who made no effort in hiding his suffering.  
His best friend had been horny enough to pull his sister away from work to make out behind the tool shed. Leon definitely could have done without that information.  
“Your old man is… eh… looking for you,” Leon supplied, still getting his bearings.  
Benedict’s shoulders visibly sagged. He flashed me an apologetic half-smile and went to see his grandfather.  
“Wait,” I called out and quickly ruffled his disheveled hair. Whether or not the end result was any better was up for debate, though.  
I let out a surprised yelp when he pulled me close to him for a quick peck on the lips.  
“Later,” he whispered. Somehow, instead of a casual farewell, he managed to make that word sound like a sultry promise. I grinned from ear to ear, partly because I knew he added that last part just to irritate Leon.  
Passing my brother, Benedict flashed him a wink. Leon turned away from him and groaned audibly. I couldn’t help but snicker like the evil big sister that I was.  
“There’s nothing funny about this,” he complained and directed an angry glare at me.  
“Yes, there is, little brother,” I replied softly, “You can’t get your head around adult stuff and I’ll never get tired of watching you suffer.”  
“You’re three years older than me, not thirty.”  
I ignored his comment and shrugged. With a spring in my step, I went on to return my attention to that bucket of chicken feed.  
“I mean, seriously? Behind the shack?”  
“You’re too young to understand.”  
“And you’re fifteen!”  
“Your point being?” Only now I turned away from the animal pen to face him.  
“You could … you know.” He looked away and his face lit up bright red. Mine lit up with a grin.  
“I see Jarl was thorough with his talk of flowers-and-bees,” I said and stepped into Leon’s personal space. His face reddened even further.  
“But he will have, understandably, left out the part about how to watch over a women’s cycle to discern her current fertility…”  
“All right, stop!”  
He threw his hands up in defeat and took a few steps away from me, shaking his head. I snickered triumphantly.  
“Leon, I know you only want to look out for me,” I said with a fond smile on my lips, “but I’ve got this. You gotta trust me on this one.”  
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” he huffed.  
“No, not really,” I shrugged.  
Having finished feeding the animals, I walked away from the pen. I flashed Leon a malicious grin over my shoulder and added, “But the image of Ben’s tongue in my mouth is one you’ll have to live with!”  
“You’re awful!”  
“Love you too!”

A visitor from Venice was the reason Benedict’s grandfather had called for him. A knight of the order of the holy seal. He wanted to meet the boy personally.  
As it turns out, Benedict had Venetian lineage. His mother had been native to San Pasquale but married off at an early age. Nobody saw her for years until she suddenly stumbled back into the village with a broken water. She died giving birth to her son on the same night. No one had known who Benedict’s father was. Until now.  
Apparently, he had had an important position in the order and had run fresh out of heirs to take his place, shortly before he died of Tuberculosis. His attendant managed to track down the last son of his partner to recruit him for the order.  
Gossip traveled fast in a small village like San Pasquale. The responses were pretty much unanimous.  
“What an opportunity! He better take it, others would kill for such a chance!” But had anyone asked him what he wanted?  
Benedict was headstrong but agreeable, and quite mature for his age. He’d see this rationally. He’d seize this opportunity. I knew that before I heard him say it.  
That whole day was a blur. My emotions barely kept up with what was happening. I didn’t let them, anyway.  
Later, when I was alone with him, I could barely listen to a word he said. I didn’t need to. That he didn’t leave lightly and that there he planned to come back for me later down the road, that I knew.  
“Stop,” I said and shut him up with a kiss. It was desperate and longing and he responded in kind.  
The memory of that last night was what kept me going until I saw him again, months later.  
He’d return for a couple of weeks every summer and winter. God knows how he managed to negotiate that. Every time, we cherished our time together and dreaded it ending.  
But I never let my emotions overrule my outward reaction. I tried to be strong for him so that I wouldn’t make it more difficult when he had to leave again.  
Never mind that Jarta had her work cut out for her as soon as he was gone. So many times, she was there and let me wet her shirt with my tears, never judging me. Whenever I’d calmed down again, she had a snippet of well-meant wisdom at the ready. But for the most part, she didn’t get involved and let me figure out my issues by myself.  
I had always known that I didn’t fit in. I was different from the others, I just never knew why or how.  
I was never any good at any single profession, always helped out here and there, but there was no path for me. Life in San Pasquale didn’t encourage any further self-reflection than how you could do your part to procure your family’s next meal. Aside from Benedict, there wasn’t anyone else I’d ever share my insecurities with, let alone feel comfortable doing so.  
Even Leon seemed to find his place in the world better than I did. Over time, we grew apart from one another.  
Leon came to resent Benedict for leaving as he saw the effect his departure had on me. After a while, time had diluted his anger until it was only … there, never to show up on the surface.  
I grew older and with that came a whole new stack of worries into my life. My relationship with Benedict wasn’t officially binding, but thankfully, there were no serious opportunities for marrying me off, anyway. Maybe Jarta just kept them off my back, I’d never know. However, I knew how life was supposed to go.  
I wasn’t like Dea, the smith’s daughter, who was actually good at something. She pursued her dream, applied for membership at Venice’s Weavers’ Guild, got accepted and moved to the big city.  
I wasn’t like Elena, the carpenter’s daughter, who was sweet and charming. There was a good chance that a handsome trader would find her family’s dowry offer acceptable the next time he passed through the village.  
And I? I swore like a sailor, and I was brash and direct, all not very ladylike qualities. I could be a little clumsy at times. I wasn’t ambitious in any sense of the word.  
But somehow, it still killed me to see everyone’s life go somewhere, anywhere, while I was left behind. It killed me to know I wasn’t worthy enough to achieve something, anything. And it killed me to feel this lonely. 

On a day five years after Benedict’s departure and half a year after my twentieth birthday, I couldn’t think of a damn reason to get out of bed.  
It was the day of the midsummer solstice, a day of celebration and community. The fact that everyone was supposed to be happy today made me even more miserable. Jarta’s good-natured attempts to cheer me up sent pangs of guilt straight to my gut, but for her, I at least tried.  
The day passed somehow like it always did. The village was more crowded than usual. I talked to a lot of people, cracked stupid jokes and made people laugh. Like I did every day.  
Jarta, her husband and Leon were the only people in the world who knew how hard that was for me. They knew that my smiles and laughs rarely stirred true joy inside of me. There was nothing they could do to help me and for the most part, I managed not to remind them of that.  
Later in the evening, I threw on my best festive gown to attend the bonfire feast. Everyone helped put together a festive meal. When it was done, the sky was already bleeding red. The sun made a final attempt at lighting up the world and it painted the mountain landscape in the most beautiful colors. From the chapel hill, I could oversee the whole valley.  
Home. I was unhappy with myself and my life, but this was home. I wouldn’t know where else to go. I didn’t fit in with the others, but I knew I belonged here. I closed my eyes and took in the feeling of a breeze ruffling my hair and the last rays of sunlight on my face. Home. The place where I lived and where I would die. 

Before I knew it, I had daydreamed the sunset away. I took my time returning to the village square where more and more people were gathering. With the last rays of sunlight disappearing behind the horizon, the bonfire lit up. And so did I.  
I crashed against several people in my sprint over the square and I couldn’t give less of a shit. Nothing would stand between me and Benedict. I very nearly toppled him over when I flung myself into his arms.  
He caught his balance and spun us around several times, hugging me back just as tightly. “I didn’t know you were coming!” I exclaimed.  
“Wanted to surprise you,” he grinned and placed an innocent peck on my lips. Without another word, I took his arm and pulled him towards a secluded area between buildings, away from the bustling in the village square. I didn’t care who saw us disappear behind a corner like horny teenagers. Everyone knew us to be sweethearts ever since we were little.  
As soon as we were out of sight, we pulled towards each other into a hungry kiss.  
It was always like this. We wouldn’t see each other for months, and then we did, and it was as if no time had passed at all. Time and distance didn’t change the fact that I was completely, utterly, stupidly in love with that man.  
After a while, we broke the kiss to catch our breaths and Benedict pressed our foreheads together, eyes closed. At that moment, it was enough. Just basking in the bliss of being in each others’ arms again. I needed this moment to last forever. But of course, it didn’t.  
“I missed you,” I breathed out when he stepped back to look at me while holding both my hands in his gloved ones.  
“I missed you, too,” he sighed deeply. “And I’m sorry.”  
“What… what for?” I asked, a weak and confused smile on my lips.  
“Leaving you. And for not realizing how unhappy you were here.” A shiver ran down my spine and I looked away, ashamed. I was so sure I had managed to keep my burdens to myself.  
“How…”  
“Leon.” I looked up at that. “Nine months ago, when I was on my way back to Venice, he caught me before I had reached the cave pass. He looked like he wanted to murder me.” He let out a dry chuckle. “And then he gave me a piece of his mind.”  
That did indeed sound like Leon, I was just surprised I never knew of it.  
“It cleared a lot of things up. I knew he resented me for joining the order, but I never understood why. I knew you always preferred not to talk about your troubles during our short time together, but never did I have a mind to ask why that was. I’m sorry, my love, for not being there when you needed me.”  
Tears formed in the corners of my eyes. I couldn’t bear looking at him.  
“It’s alright, I just need to figure some stuff out, it’s nothing.” My damned voice cracked. I hated that I had failed him like this.  
“No, it isn’t. It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay not to be able to do it all on your own. Whether or not I had a choice in joining the order is debatable. But I still didn’t realize what was going on during the time we did have together. And for that, I am at fault. Leon is right to be angry with me and I hope you can forgive me someday.”  
When I didn’t react right away, he tenderly brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I leaned into the touch. Closing my eyes, I felt a tear rolling down my cheek.  
“Of course,” I huffed, my voice muffled when I pressed my face into his chest.  
He was right. Years of swallowing up negative thoughts and feeling, always deflecting when asked about it, blocking out the ones closest to me, it had all achieved nothing. I needed to get off my ass. For my own sake.  
He kept his arms around me and backed away only a little so he could look at me again.  
“I want to do better,” he continued, “only now I’m able to. Or, I will be.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I have to accompany my attendant on an expedition. We will depart in a few days.”  
Then and there, my brain seemed to have erased the entire preceding conversation from my memory. My body grew rigid hearing those words. I had heard similar words so many times, and they still stung the same way.  
“Wait, this is different!” he added hastily, having noticed my reaction, “Look, we’ll be away for the better part of a year, stationed at another branch in Styria. They’re understaffed there with no one to keep the place running, so a few of the knights are bringing along their wives. You could come, too! The journey won’t be easy, but I know how strong you are. It would be a drastic change of scenery, but it could do you good!”  
“Hang on.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and shot up my eyebrows. “I know I’ve joked about how I’m too clumsy to make it past the village’s threshold. This as a follow-up is, honestly, not that funny.”  
From his expression, I could tell he was serious.  
“It’s up to you,” he said, with a hopeful smile on his lips, “You don’t have to decide right away. I know this must be a lot. But I would love for us to finally have more time together than stolen moments.  
Either way, I’ll be initiated after I return. And when I do, I’ll ask you again, officially,” he paused, fumbled with something in his pocket, placed the object in his open palm, and went down on one knee, “Will you marry me?”  
My world stopped. Everything ground to a halt. My brain didn’t catch up for a while and I just stood there, gaping, with my mouth opening and closing like a fish’s.  
Benedict’s smile grew wider at my surprise. That smile alone would have been enough on its own. I would have done anything for him.  
I was determined to be worthy of him, to learn to deal with my issues and self-doubts, to become a better person than the one he loved regardless.  
He still gave me the choice, I could decide my fate. How long had I waited for a chance to be able to do that without knowing so?  
“Yes,” I said with determination, on my lips the happiest smile I’d ever smiled. I felt my cheeks dampen from tears. I hadn’t even noticed them escaping my eyes.  
Benedict placed a copper brooch into my hand and closed my fingers around the object, then pulled me into a tight hug. Lovestruck butterflies added to the swirling feeling of happiness deep in my stomach as I inhaled his scent. I never wanted to let go of that feeling, or him, for that matter. He relaxed further into the hug and let out a sigh.  
“You had me worried for a second, there.” The sound of his voice and the beaming look on his face sent tingles all over my body. I was grinning like an idiot.  
“Gotta keep things interesting if we’re planning to spend the rest of our lives together.”  
“Already?”  
“You know me, I aim to please.” He broke into full laughter now because he knew how much that wasn’t true.  
“I wanna be nice to everyone but get awkward easily so I instead annoy the fuck out of people until they forget their worries,” would have been a more accurate description. And still looked at me like I was the most wonderful thing in the world.  
“I think I have some catching up to do in that department,” he said softly and stroked a strand of hair out of my face. With his other hand, he cupped the back of my hand, the one that held the brooch. “It was my mother’s. I want you to have it.”  
I turned it around in my hand. It was beautifully ornamented and had undoubtedly been polished recently.  
“So you’ll have something to remember me by if…”  
“If some stupid knight order decides to drive us apart again,” I finished for him with a smirk, “Thank you so much. This is amazing.”  
“The brooch or the proposal?”  
“Both, obviously.” My face was going to be sore in the morning from all the wide grinning. With reverence, I gently tucked back the front strands of my hair and fastened them with the brooch. It felt lighter than it looked as if it had always belonged there.  
“Speaking of stupid knight orders, what do you think? Would you accompany me?”  
“I don’t know. I’m honestly not sure if I could.” His kind, blue eyes looked at me with patience. “You know I’m not one for adventures. I belong here, at least I think I do.”  
What was another year? I had a lot of things to think about and to work on myself. But with the thought of Benedict leaving again so soon, the memories of sadness and loneliness crept to the forefront of my mind. No, this time, I wouldn’t let them.  
“You go and save the world. I’ll be here when you get back.”  
I added with a smirk, “And I’ll be ready to spoil you rotten.”  
“Don’t worry, saving the world seems a lot easier than giving you what you deserve. So I don’t know if I’m even gonna need that much spoiling.” He winked at me in that infuriatingly handsome way I’d found irresistible ever since we were young.  
“Benedict, I need you to come over here!” Paul’s booming voice from across the square yanked me out of my reverie. I watched Benedict flinch and close his eyes in annoyance.  
“Really, now?”  
“Something’s up! Just get over here for a second!”  
He let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, alright!”  
“You,” he said to me, “stay right here! Don’t run away!”  
“I’ll refrain from conquering Styria in the meantime.”  
“Good.” Both of us must have been grinning for ten minutes straight, and the muscles in my face were starting to feel like it.  
When I watched him cross the village square, I admired how well his traveling garb accentuated his impressive build. I was one swallow of saliva away from drooling. I let out a long sigh, like the lovestruck fool that I was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride! It actually got suggestive! *squeels* That’s all the lemon energy I have in me, I’m afraid.  
> I also just dumped a lot of emotional baggage on our heroine that I didn’t plan for, but it came along quite naturally and was a lot of fun to explore. All the characters are drifting apart from their canon-versions the more this goes on and I’m totally down with the self-indulgence. 
> 
> Did I write this fic out of order at all just because I wanted to skip forward to the cool stuff and buy myself time to think of ways the whole San Pasquale business could make a modicum of sense? Yes, that’s completely true. 
> 
> On a side note, I don’t know what historical accuracy is and I don’t care. I’m just doing the occasional google so things don’t get too wild. Other than that, I call upon artistic freedom. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	8. Blood and Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night it all began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pro-tip: Throw on the track RAVUS AETERNA by Yoko Shinomura from the FFXV soundtrack while reading this chapter. You will not regret it.

A loosened roof tile. A twig cracked under a boot. That’s all the warning we ever got.  
I was too busy admiring my newly betrothed’s butt to notice something moving behind me. It took no less than a second until I knew just how much it wasn’t a squirrel.  
It happened everywhere at once. Flashes of light in the corners of my eyes announced a myriad of burning arrows landing all over the village square. Arrows stuck to the sides of buildings or trees, lighting them on fire, or buried themselves in the bodies of people. My people.  
Gino, the grumpy mining foreman, who refused to look at me for two weeks when an eight-year-old Leon thought it funny to hide his pickaxe, arrow to the chest.  
Pacino, the friendly and patient woodworker, who always smiled at me when we passed one another, even though I barely knew him, arrow to the head.  
Cuita, the gentle and wise herbalist, who always had an open ear for everyone’s ailments, physical or not, arrow to the stomach, bleeding out in seconds.  
They were dropping like flies. Every moment, more lives lost. And I stood there, unmoving, unbelieving.  
An arrow flew by me, a hand's breadth away from my face. Survival instincts kicked in. I ran like hell. Through what must have been hell. Or a nightmare.  
Miraculously, I was still alive three seconds later, zig-zagging across the square, watching others fall who weren’t as lucky.  
I had to get to my family, to Benedict. In-between sprints came the dreaded realization that I didn’t have the first idea where to look for them. I eyed the nearest house, hoping I’d be out of harm’s way inside, hoping for shelter from the barrages of arrows that still went down on the people left on the main square.  
Said shelter had another idea, though. It became a death trap instead.  
The roof was on fire. With deafening creaks and cracks, the beams collapsed on top of each other, blocking the door. From inside, I heard strangled cries.  
Without thinking, I rushed inside, wiggling through gaps, and made my way to the owner of the familiar voice.  
The central beam had trapped Corso, Benedict’s grandfather under it. He tried to push it off, to free himself, but to no avail. I let out a curse and a pained shout as I braced my back against the nearest wall and tried to push the beam off of him with my legs. Above me, cracking sounds could be heard, the roof announcing it was going to give way any second.  
With combined efforts, we finally made the beam budge a little. It was enough for the old man to slip out. He pulled me up and we bolted for the back door, and not a moment too soon.  
The whole house collapsed. I shielded my face from burning debris flying all over, loosened by the wooden beams falling on top of each other.  
“Look out!” Corso’s shout didn’t reach me in time. He tackled the attacker behind me, a split-second before he would have buried his weapon inside my back. They struggled against each other, rolling around on the floor.  
The aggressor’s weapon was lost in the process. He still managed to overpower the old man easily and straddled him, reaching back with his fist to deliver a devastating blow. Blood sprayed onto Corso’s face. But it wasn’t his.  
The black-clad attacker dumbly stared at his own blade sticking out of his chest. I yanked it out and kicked him off the old man. Now it was his turn to be straddled. Two more times, I stabbed him with his own weapon, yelling incoherent obscenities while letting my tears fall freely.  
Corso had to pull me off of him. He grabbed me by my shoulders, shook me and forced me to look at him. I was in a daze.  
“Find Benedict,” he implored with a raspy voice, “he can protect you!”  
I made a weak movement akin to a nod and watched him take off. He took the weapon still stuck in the attacker’s chest and ran towards the fighting that was going on further down the path. Then it dawned on me: He was buying me time to get away from it.  
I attempted to shake off what had just happened. My gaze fell upon the corpse on the floor. It wore dark leather armor and a mask that concealed his features. It used to be a man of muscular build. I had killed that man.  
Another house near me collapsed into itself and sent a cloud of smoke and ashes my way. Inhaling some of it, I suffered a coughing fit. At least that made me snap out of it.  
Away from the fighting. Now. Find Benedict.  
But Leon was out there, somewhere. Jarta and Jarl, too. But I had no way of finding them. Damn, I needed to get a grip.  
“Find Benedict and survive until you do,” I said to myself out loud. The heat from the fire had made me sweat profusely. With the back of my hand, I wiped some of it from my brow and at the tears on my cheeks, smudging the coal around my eyes. I tried to pull myself together as best I could and kept my knees from giving out. Then I hauled ass.

I lasted all of twenty seconds until I ran into another attacker again. I must have looked like an easy target. A slender woman, her dress torn to ribbons, blood, dirt, ashes, and coal smeared all over her face.  
On instinct, I ducked behind said attacker and inadvertently used him as a shield against arrows flying at me. That didn’t exactly earn me the favor of his comrades. Now I had several of them hot on my heels.  
Knowing the terrain and layout of the village didn’t help against their ridiculous numbers. Their uniforms made them all look the same, like nightmare creatures following me wherever I ran, another two appearing for every pursuer I managed to shake off. It wasn’t long until they had cornered me.  
Desperate, I picked up the nearest object that could qualify as a makeshift-weapon. From behind the masks, I heard them cackle at my feeble attempt to stand up against the three of them, armed with nothing but a measly stick.  
At first, disgust and anger overruled fear and despair and I braved their leering and kept holding up my trusty stick, roughly imitating a sword-stance. When my back was met with resistance, I knew it was over. I felt a boot kick into the hollow of my knee and a hand pushing against my back. I fell on my face, completely at their mercy.  
Useless defiance lent me the strength to push up on my elbows and look up.  
I saw a flash above me, the blade reaching back to deliver the killing blow reflecting the light of the fires. Bracing myself, I closed my eyes.  
The sound of a familiar grunt made me open them again. No, that couldn’t…  
A few meters away, I saw an attacker fall and his blade being picked up and hauled in my direction. When I looked up again, I saw the one who had been about to kill me collapse to the floor, a blade sticking out from the back of his head.  
I scrambled away from it, got up to my knees and watched as Benedict whirled through their ranks, dealing death at every turn.  
They seemed uncoordinated and were evidently unprepared to face someone who could actually defend themselves. Benedict was a tempest, alternating between furious swings and elegant deflects.  
Reinforcements seemed to have run out for the moment and he made use of it to tend to me. He helped me up to my feet and checked me for injuries.  
“I’m getting you out of here,” he said determinately and scanned our surroundings for the nearest escape option. That was how he saw what I didn’t.  
He side-stepped and pulled me into his arms as I heard a ’thump’ behind him. It happened more quickly than I could realize what was going on. I looked at him, confused, to see his mouth twist into a strained, bitter smile. Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth.  
“That wasn't as easy as I thought.”  
“What… what’s…” I felt something warm on my hand. Suddenly, Benedict collapsed in my arms and we tumbled to the floor. He landed on his back and pulled me close to him. With tenderness, he stroked my cheek with a gloved finger, just like he’d done countless times in all the years I’d known him.  
“You’re safe,” he whispered, “that’s all that matters.”  
“No, no, no, it can’t be, no…”  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you needed me,” he struggled to speak, coughed up blood, but managed a warm smile regardless. “I love you so much.”  
“No, no, this can’t be happening.”  
“I’ll be with you.” His voice strained as he pushed through his last breath. “Always.”

I jerked awake, shooting up to a sitting position. My face felt crusty and my shirt was soaking wet, I must have been crying. A look at my surroundings told me where I was. It told me it was just a dream.  
Any of that relief was short-lived, however, as the realization hit me like a brick smashed into my face.  
It did all really happen, it was just seven months in the past, but real after all.  
Benedict was really gone. I had cried over his body until dawn had come. Now, all those months later, I teared up at the memory.  
The people of San Pasquale let me grieve until sunrise. The Assassins were looking to kill the only foundling child of the village but had decided to be thorough. Jokes on them, I survived the raid. As a last mercy, the people of the village didn’t deliver me to them outright but cast me out instead so I would lead the murderers after me, away from the village.  
In the night of the raid, some ethereal masked asshole in fancy robes showed up in my dreams, called me his daughter, rambled some nonsense about saving life, death and the cosmic order.  
When he told me I had to go do something for him, I told him to go fuck himself. He didn’t even acknowledge that and laid down his tasks for me. Find the Moonblade, go to Venice and kill the Undead Archon. He would protect me as best he could, but I was the one who had to do the job.

That night, my powers awakened. Now, I can never unhear the pleas of the dead, never unsee the horrors of the Twilight, and I can never die.  
I am the daughter of death. I am his enforcer, sent to strike down those who would oppose him. 

Benedict had sacrificed himself to save my life when not hours later, that wanker showed up and told me I was impossible to kill anyway. I’d been on Death’s wild goose chase after the Undead Archon, Sophistos and the Black Grimoire ever since.  
I refused to think of all that any more and got up to distract myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! The flashback dream turned out to be longer than I planned for and I'm not too happy having two flashback chapters in a row. But here you go anyway, now we know the origins of our heroine!  
> Also, from the depths of the internet, I found people interested in beta-ing and reviewing my fic! Editing sweeps are happening soon to clean up past chapters. Still, flawed as they are, I feel like I’ve come such a long way since I wrote this for the first time literally 10 years ago. So I hope you enjoyed it, too! :)


	9. All In A Day's Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whohoo, new chapter!!  
> Beta'ed by the wonderful  Raquiesha! Thank you so much for your kind and funny words, you're the most awesome inspiration I could wish for. This chapter is as good as it is because of you! <3

I knew what I had to do next. I had to find the black grimoire as fast as possible and only Sophistos could lead me to it.  
My nightmare had left me in a foul mood and royally pissed at my father. I wouldn’t forgo the fate of the world just to spite him, but it wasn’t like Sophistos was going to become any more dead if he had to wait a few more hours. I’d rather enter the lab under the cover of night to minimize the chance of uninvited followers.  
So instead of rushing off to the Old Chimney, I resorted to reporting in for guild work to pass the day. I felt a real sense of duty when it came to the net of the mask, unlike my father’s grand quests.  
Dressed and geared up, I pocketed the mechanical locket that was the key to Sophistos’ lab.

Guild runner errands usually didn’t require too much of a briefing. It would always contain the same points, “this cannot fall into the wrong hands under any circumstances” and “the world is doomed if you lose this” being strong contenders for the most popular ones.  
But it’s not paranoia if it’s warranted. Handling necromantic scrolls and tomes, forbidden knowledge, and sometimes political intelligence, it was no wonder the net didn’t trust couriers from the outside and employed its own runners.  
In the five months I’d been a runner, I didn’t think I’d ever seen the notice board empty. Someone always needed transport of something important. After plucking a note with an errand off the board, you’d pay a visit to the librarians’ workstation to receive the goods or further instructions.  
I was on my way to do just that when I heard someone behind me call out my name. Now there was someone undeserving of my cranky mood. I found it in me to let out a neutral-sounding “Good morning”.  
“Good morning to you, too. You’re just the person I was looking for,” Antonio said and smiled warmly.  
His smile reached his eyes and brought forth a set of dimples. He actually looked glad to see me, not just because he needed me. The feeling was mutual, as we got along really well.  
“Have you been briefed on this, yet?” he asked and pointed to the contract note in my hand.  
Aeris would never trust any one person enough to share her responsibilities, but Antonio came closest. He wasn’t so much her right hand, more like her right pinky.  
He was privy to most secrets of the net, devilishly intelligent, and well-educated on practically every subject there was. There was an implicit understanding among guild members that he was your man whenever Aeris wasn’t around.  
Back when I was still busy driving him insane with my spectacular lack of education, learning how to read and write from him, I didn’t even know he was that high up the ranks. You would never know because he treated everyone with the same respect and it earned him the people’s respect in return.  
“I was about to be. Is there anything I should know?”  
“Let me see. Ah, yes, the cursed chapel. Rumors about a demonic infestation have solidified lately.”  
“You think it’s legit?”  
“I know it is. There have been three deaths reported to the Arsenal’s foreman. He dismissed the superstition and went on to spread his own narrative. According to him, it was divine punishment to the people who weren’t faithful enough to the Doge's cause.” Of course he did, the heartless bastard. Now, Largo would never fuck over anyone else ever again.  
Antonio shot me a knowing glance, I must have betrayed myself by reaction. That glance told me that he had picked up on the fact that I wasn’t entirely unbiased when it came to that particular foreman, but he chose not to comment.  
“What do we know about the demons?” I asked.  
“A witness laid eyes on the horrors before he escaped with his life,” he told me and started walking down the corridor, indicating for me to follow him.  
“Rat-faced, six-armed, green-skinned devils, tripping up their prey before hunching over to maul their victims to death.”  
“Lectors.”  
“Exactly. You can see why it was a good thing you picked that mission. The job would normally entail reconnaissance and containment upon confrontation, but if you’re the one that’s going…”  
“I can deal with the Lectors then and there,” I finished for him.  
“That would be much appreciated,” he said and graced me with a smile that radiated trust and confidence.  
He was my teacher, but he never made me feel inferior to him. That, I managed on my own. The amount of knowledge, skill and cunning that fit into that man’s head was just ridiculous. That alone wouldn’t have counted for much, but he was also good at making use of his gifts, on top of being a damn good teacher.  
I returned his smile, already feeling less cranky in the pleasant company.  
“But it wasn’t why you were looking for me, was it?”  
As our conversation progressed, we had traversed the corridors around the library and reached his study.  
“You’re right, it wasn’t.” He sighed heavily and seemed to take a moment to collect himself. Then, he closed the door to the room and turned the key.  
“Is something up?” I asked out loud instead of just thinking it. It was unlike him to be nervous about, anything, really.  
“I need you to do something for me.”  
I felt a surge of spirit energy when he undid a rune protecting the drawer at his desk. A few moments of rummaging later, he presented me with a wax-sealed letter. I took it without question.  
“Where to?”  
“Read this first,” he said as he handed me an inconspicuous piece of paper. It read, “Be careful who you trust, ears everywhere.” I looked up at him with raised eyebrows. The expression in his face was serious.  
“Skullbreak Tavern. I need you to deliver it to a lady with red hair and purple linings in her dress.”  
“Alright, shouldn’t be too hard to recognize.”  
A few steps away from me, Antonio started to pace, clearly concerned. His tall, lean frame was hugged tightly by an elegant waistcoat, thus the heightened tension in his shoulders was visible.  
He ruffled a hand through his light brown hair, as he often did whenever he was uneasy. His hair was trimmed shorter on the sides of his head, and he frequently smoothed over the top where it was longer.  
For someone in the trade of handling secrets, his body language was surprisingly telling.  
He seemed to contemplate how much he could say.  
“I need to be absolutely sure that letter reaches its destination.”  
He had stopped pacing and faced me, his kind, clever, green eyes fixing mine, his gaze firm, but pleading.  
“You can count on me,” was what I wished I could have said, but getting my ass killed not even 24 hours before didn’t exactly inspire my self-confidence.  
“It will,” was what I settled on.

I left Antonio’s study with mixed feelings and my mind was swirling with too many things at once. I needed to get some air to clear my head. The big entry hall of the guild house was empty save for me and my thoughts.  
“And where do you think you’re going?”  
Hearing that voice, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and shoot back something like, “To work. Duh.” and continued walking instead. I wasn’t in the mood.  
“Runner contract,” I replied instead.  
“Oh, so for today, you have no more trinkets to steal, no more governments to usurp? You seemed to be enjoying yourself causing trouble, why stop now?”  
Aeris’ words hurt almost as much as the sound of her voice. Whenever she was pissed off at something, it had this unpleasant pitch.  
I said nothing at first, just stopped and turned to face her, grimacing.  
“You know there’s no playing dumb with me, girl. I know what you’ve been up to.”  
“Evidently.” I pressed my mouth into a thin line.  
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”  
“I have nothing to hide from you. I did what I had to do.”  
“And since when does that involve traumatizing security guards with Ancestral Vision and using runes to blow shit up?  
Granted, I could have gone for a more subtle approach with either of those incidents.  
I shrugged. Aeris groaned and cursed at my response, closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.  
Eyes still closed, she continued, “A palace dignitary arrived last night, demanding the net’s support in apprehending ’The Foreigner’.”  
“Fuck.”  
“Indeed.” She let out a heavy sigh, seemingly quenching down on her anger. “It took some effort lying through my teeth when everything in my reports suggested you were out there throwing around spells like an imbecile.”  
“But you chose to do so regardless,” I stated somberly.  
“Yeah, yeah, spare me your gratitude,” she cut me off before I could express it, “all I did was buying you time. They’re going to be onto you before long.”  
I nodded. “I know.” After what she did for me, I decided to concede, “I’ll be more careful.”  
My mentor let out another sigh. “We both damn-well know you won’t. But I’d appreciate it if you tried.”  
With that, she decided that she had enough of my shit and left me standing in the empty halls of the guild house. I watched her disappear around a corner, waving at me dismissively without even turning around.  
I smiled, truly grateful that I had won her as my teacher, as my ally, and maybe even as my friend. 

A meeting with the pastor of the “cursed” chapel was arranged in the afternoon. Until then, I had some time to kill and already several ideas on how to do that.  
Leon was still out and about, so I made my way to the market in the outer city district. It was buzzing with life, the air filled with the sound of all sorts of merchants clamoring, hassling potential customers into considering their wares.  
This was where I had first arrived in Venice. Soaked, stinking, desperate, and freshly resurrected, I had stumbled out of the Water Gateway’s maintenance access. The main road to Venice was blocked and I couldn’t afford to wait around for weeks until it would have been free again, so I felt like I had no choice but to take to the tunnels.  
I shuddered at the memory of those days I spent running around in those damp, dark corridors of the Gateway tunneling system, terrified of running into enemies, terrified of dying again. If navigating that nest of Derwisch Assassins wasn’t deserving of the term “clusterfuck”, I wouldn’t know what was.  
My situation had improved so much since then. Ever since my brother and I had made it to Venice alive, we had found a job, a roof over our heads, and a purpose. Many others didn’t have either.  
I used to think I was alone with my troubles, whether they were feelings of worthlessness, grief, or this ludicrous quest to save the world.  
I already achieved so much. How? Because I had help. It was about damn time I gave something back.  
Following a spontaneous epiphany, I took a turn at the market’s exit and crossed the bridge to enter the trading center.  
“Yo, Dego!” I called out and waved in the direction of the bulky man I was addressing. He turned away from his desk by the ore stashes to face me and greeted me with a tip to his cap and a wave of his own.  
“Hey, there! Don’t suppose you’re carrying copper chunks instead of coins today?”  
Dego was one of the merchants San Pasquale kept a close liaison with to sell the copper ore from the mines. His visits to the village were so frequent, he was practically part of the community. Though he had been far away when the raid happened. Since he didn’t know the circumstances, he didn’t even have the idea of blaming me.  
“Not today, sorry. Are things that tight?”  
“Well, what can you expect? Remove a link from the chain and you’ve got two separate chains.”  
I tilted my head and gave a flat smirk. “I don’t think that’s how it goes, but I get your point.”  
He was easy to talk to so I was hopeful this visit would turn out successful.  
“Well, you surely didn’t come here to hear me yapping. Did you need something?”  
“The mines are still inoperable because of a lack of workers, right?” I paused to ponder my idea for a moment and how I could phrase it. “I may have a solution.”  
“Please, I’m all ears!” he exclaimed and threw his hands up in the air for emphasis. “Whatever gets things moving again.” I hadn’t expected his response to being this favorable. This was good.  
“There is a group of former dock workers looking for a job. All they need is an arrangement for the journey to the mountains.”  
He put an index finger to his chin and thought about what he had just heard.  
“Those poor sods in Skullbreak who got booted out of the arsenal?”  
I nodded and bit my lip nervously. Dego’s trade wouldn’t be political enough for him to care, right? Now was the time to see if my hunch was correct.  
“Well, I’m sure the Doge will appreciate the extra tax-ducats out of a flourishing copper trade.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Send them my way, I’ll arrange their passage.”  
I thanked him profusely and promised to tell the men as soon as possible.  
I left the trading center in good spirits as it felt like I had finally accomplished something to undo the damage I’d done. The raid had killed two-thirds of San Pasquale’s population, most of them workers in the mine which happened to be the village’s main source of income. So even with the assassins out of the picture, the survivors were at risk of starvation if they couldn’t get trade rolling again. If this impulsive action proved fruitful, it would kill two birds with one stone. Both the dockworkers and San Pasquale could hope for a future again.

I still had a few hours left. With no goal in mind, I wandered around aimlessly, taking in the smell of mixed foods the wind carried from the market stalls all the way across the courthouse square.  
Usually, when I had time to spare, I’d try to spend it with Leon or went studying in the library. It took a serious amount of effort not to appear like the uneducated oaf that I was and I could always use more practice on my necromancy.  
Given my current mood, however, that would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate for shit. Constantly, I noticed my mind wandering back to the raid, back to people dying, back to Benedict dying, and for what? All to bring my death, and even that I couldn’t do properly.  
I had been living and working in Venice for months, but now, I couldn’t shake the memories that came with wandering these streets again. When I managed to take my mind off the horrors that happened to San Pasquale for more than ten seconds, the skirmishes at the Water Gateway were more than happy to take their place.  
I stopped dead in my tracks and closed my eyes for a moment. I felt anger swell up inside me. I never asked for this. How did I even survive until now? Oh, that’s right, I fucking didn’t.  
I opened my eyes again and caught sight of a flag swaying to the wind right in my field of view. When I recognized it, I let out a bitter laugh.  
“Might as well,” I hissed to myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this chapter was a bit interlude-y. Stay tuned for more soon!


	10. Path of Anger and Hatred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again beta-ed by the fantastic  Raquiesha! Exiting plot stuff is happening! Enjoy!

The Order of the Holy Seal was a bunch of nutjobs.   
If you looked behind the knightly bravado, they were nothing more than a glorified mercenary band sanctioned by the church. They weren’t officially part of it, though. Cutting ties wouldn’t be a problem if they ever fell out of line.   
They raised the banner of St. Anthony and did supposedly everything in his name. That included preaching anger and hatred as fuel for holy and righteous quests. In their creed, aggression was like sex and revenge worthy of an orgasm.  
Doesn’t sound sketchy at all, I know. Part of me was glad Benedict was never fully initiated. I only found all of this out after, or rather, because of his death. It was also how I knew some were more zealous than others.   
Yngvar, Benedict’s attendant, was a nice enough guy. He was committed to the order’s principles, but it was at least possible to have a normal conversation with him without being preached at.   
I had met him at an inn by the coast on my way to Venice and I broke the news of his apprentice’s death to him. For some moronic reason, that meant his journey and mission to Styria had failed. For some even more moronic reason, failure wasn’t tolerated and meant exile for knights of the order.   
Yngvar very patiently explained this to me. I told him, to his face, that it was bullshit. Since he had been promised to the Order at infancy, he never knew anything else, so he just accepted his fate and discontinued the conversation.  
A few days after arriving in Venice, I delivered Yngvar’s letter explaining the situation to the grandmaster of the local branch of the Order.   
Ragnar was a special kind of looney — predictable, but unwavering and scary. That was not at all because he was ridiculously tall and I felt like a helpless mouse talking to him.   
Okay, maybe a little. His intimidating physical appearance went well with his deep, gruff voice when he talked with such conviction about the glorious path of anger and hatred, making the worthlessness of human lives sound like the most normal thing in the world.  
Yngvar’s letter, a sword on my back, and a grimace of annoyance on my face were all it had taken me to gain access to the guild halls. I was even offered membership and support in the pursuit of vengeance for the death of my betrothed.   
Though flattered by the offer, I had politely declined. Now, as a respected runner of the net, I was still on good terms with the Grandmaster.   
At this moment of inner turmoil, happening upon the base of their guild felt like a hint of fate. It gave me an idea.   
I met Rangar in the courtyard, shouting orders and instructions to recruits scattered about who were busy beating the crap out of straw dummies with practice swords.   
I explained to him how I wanted to expand on my self-defense training and he immediately offered me the opportunity of a sparring match.  
Within minutes, a recruit was found and sent into the ring with me. We were both equipped with short practice swords that had their edges dulled to avoid injury. We would be counting hits connecting with dedicated zones protected by body armor. The duel would be over if either of us managed to score three hits or knock down their opponent.  
The young man looked nervous, probably at the prospect of fighting a woman, but shook it off when he saw me getting into a fighting stance. Yngvar was to credit for teaching me that one.   
I gave the recruit a look that said “What?” in the most annoying fashion I could muster. He took it as an invitation.   
In the proper form, but still full of hesitancy, he took a swing at me. My body easily evaded the blow, I didn’t even have to think of the movement. If you do, you’re too slow. If you’re too slow, you take hits and you die.   
Pain was a good teacher and I was a good student.  
*  
Six months ago …  
*  
The exit of the Water Gate was beyond the great well. It was a giant rotunda serving as a training area for the assassins. Makeshift-looking wooden scaffolding that was supported by a pillar in the middle of the rotunda connected maintenance exits four meters above the ground. One more exit was on the other side of the room, our way to freedom, finally in arm’s reach.  
The moment we stepped in, the door we had come through snapped shut, as if controlled by a remote mechanism.   
“Shit, move your asses!” I yelled and cringed at the volume of my voice’s echo bouncing off of the rotunda’s walls.  
Hastily, I herded a limping Edmundo supported by Leon towards the exit.   
“Look out!” Their shout didn’t reach me in time. My vision exploded when something heavy hit me in the back of my head.   
“Go!” I yelled before I collapsed on the floor. With the last bit of my senses, I perceived them leaving through the door, accompanied by Leon’s vocal protests and I saw Edmundo’s arm pulling the door shut behind them. Good. Whoever or whatever it was that took me down was only after me.   
I laid on my back, dazed and confused, but I still took note of something dark approaching my face before I could only see red. An eyeball must have burst, and not an instant later followed the crunching sound of my skull giving way when that thing crashed down on my head.  
At least it was quick. That much could be said about death-by-Warhammer-to-the-face. The Twilight healed the mortal injuries as if it was nothing but the memory of this literally head-splitting pain was there to stay.  
When I came back to slit his throat, he never saw it coming.   
*  
His last strike left an opening in my opponent’s defense and me with ample time to land a kick to the hollow of his knee. As it budged, I pushed down against the guard of his sword with mine and punched below his jaw with my elbow. Not at the jaw, that would hurt me more than him, but into the squishy part right above the Adam’s apple.   
Out of breath from the blow, he staggered back. I seized the opportunity and tripped him up. A second later, he found himself laying on his back and my sword pointed at his throat.   
From the sidelines, Rangar whistled and the recruit reluctantly vacated the area for another man of similar stature to take his place.   
This guy looked more sure of himself and certainly wouldn’t make the same mistake of underestimating me. That was exactly what I needed right now.  
He was quick on his feet, despite the heavy training armor. But then again, so was I.   
I danced around him, dodging every blow, not even bothering to parry most of the time. It spurred him on and his blows became more forceful.   
*  
The scaffolding was where the Mistress of Assassins made her entrance. The elevated position allowed her to oversee everything happening below or, in this case, shoot me condescending looks. She didn’t waste words. We both knew who the other was.   
The way back was blocked so I had no choice but to engage in a duel to the death with the most deadly fighter this side of the Alps. No, “to the death” was not quite right. She killed me in the first twenty seconds.  
I scrambled to my feet, chest heaving. I had been too slow to dodge the barrage of shuriken spiked with poison. The substances had shut down more of my bodily functions than I could name.   
I was immensely thankful for the Twilight’s capacity to heal me as it felt amazing to be able to breathe again. Usually, that reprieve came with an opportunity to regroup and reposition myself. Not this time.   
When I searched the scaffolding for the Mistress, we locked eyes. I felt a shiver of fear run down my spine. “Shit,” I mouthed and hastily rolled to the side, and dodged another shuriken.  
*  
With a practiced combat roll, I avoided a blow and came up behind the recruit. He awkwardly twisted his sword arm to block my blow to his waist at the last second. With a half-turn, I swung at his other, unprotected side. He must have expected that move, jumped back, narrowly avoiding the dulled tip of my blade, and got back into a defensive stance.   
It would have been a good opportunity to score my first point, but he was determined not to let me have it.  
Well, I was determined to kick his ass. The first time I’d ever picked up a sword was only a few months ago, so it was no surprise my technique was lacking, but I wouldn’t let that stop me.   
*  
When she jumped down the scaffolding, I could finally face her head-on. She was the one. The leader of the group trying to kill me. The one responsible for all of this. The deaths of the villagers, the death of Benedict, all the bullshit I had to endure ever since the night of the raid on San Pasquale.   
Sword held high, I furiously charged the Mistress but she cut me down without even breaking a sweat.   
The Twilight healed me, again, but I fell on my face. Being in another realm of reality granted me no protection from an undead killer. She kicked me in the stomach. I grit my teeth and suppressed an undignified scream of pain as she snickered at my misery. She let me get up and retreated back onto the scaffolding with a series of elegant jumps.   
“Showoff,” I groaned while making use of the moment to readjust to the physical realm again.  
“I can’t believe my master was afraid you were the one who could foil his plans.” She wore that smile well on her hard, angled features. It was the kind of smile you didn’t ever wanna see because you just knew nothing good would come from it.  
“And I can’t believe he employed such a stupid bitch to do his dirty work!” I shot back, trying to ignore the migraine of my life that came with returning from the Twilight.  
My chest would have been pierced with a poisoned projectile if a surge of adrenaline hadn’t helped me jerk away in time. A deep sense of dread overtook my entire body, a hair’s breadth away from making me freeze in place. I was terrified like never before in my life.  
True, I could come back from the dead but it did take a toll on me. The way the Mistress made short work of me, I wasn’t sure I could last much longer.   
I was running around the rotunda like a confused, beheaded chicken, desperately trying to avoid deadly attacks.   
She was inhumanly fast. I only saw flashes of pale, undead skin, before she showed up somewhere else to launch another attack. If she wanted to, the Mistress could have finished me off by now.   
*  
I parried the recruit's blow head-on. With a loud clang, our swords clashed together in the space between us, echoing off the walls of the courtyard.   
My mind was racing back and forth between possible and actual movements. I was in a state of flow, everything else faded away.  
*  
My weapon disappeared out of my peripheral vision when the Mistress disarmed me.   
“Playtime’s over,” she announced and stepped forward to cross the space between us. I scrambled away, desperately looking for something else to defend myself. Stumbling backward, I narrowly saved myself from tripping when I fell over the corpse of the guard from earlier.   
“And what are you going to do with that?” she asked with a mocking smile on her lips, skeptically eying the Warhammer I had picked up from the dead Derwisch.   
“Wreck your shit!” I exclaimed while angry tears fell out of the corners of my eyes. Then, I pulled the hammer behind my head and threw it with everything I had.   
The Mistress grinned as she dodged it easily. Her eyes followed the spinning hammer which meant for a single moment, they weren’t on me.   
I wrestled her down to the ground with a full-body-tackle. Our struggle was accompanied by the sound of the hammer crashing into the scaffolding’s supporting pillars. Just in time, I managed to roll off of her before a heavy beam came down and crushed both our chests.   
Broken ribs pierced my lungs. Shock masked most of the pain, but gasping for air that would not come felt even worse. I was trembling all over from an adrenaline rush giving its all to keep me alive. In a last effort, I looked beside me to see the Mistress struggling the same way. I suffocated within minutes.   
*  
The recruit obviously had enough of my games at this point. He pulled every trick in the book to score hits on me. Since he must have been doing little else besides training every day, his stamina and finesse surpassed mine.   
*  
At this point, the pull of the Twilight felt familiar and almost calming. That is, until I felt a second presence.   
I heard an unearthly whisper before I was pulled deeper into the realm of the dead. “My spirit will not let you go.”  
I pushed myself up to my feet as fast as possible. I scanned the desert landscape for movements, searching for irregularities on the dried, cracked grounds. I couldn’t see the threat, but I felt it in every fiber of my being.   
This was my father’s domain. That must have boosted my strength somehow or else I would have been a whimpering, shuddering mess.   
The moonblade, death’s weapon, had already materialized in my hand and I gripped the hilt as tightly as I could. Wielding the curved blade felt familiar as if I’d carried it my entire life.  
I got into a fighting stance, ready to strike or to run at a moment’s notice. When I felt the ground shaking beneath my feet, I opted for the latter.   
The ground burst and the blast knocked me back. I hit the back of my head on the cracked stone floor.   
“Fuck!” I yelled. In the world of the living, I wouldn’t have bounced back from an injury like that.   
When I propped myself up on my elbows, I could finally see her and screamed in terror.  
*  
I stayed on the defensive, annoying the hell out of the poor recruit. His movements became more frantic when he couldn’t bring me down.   
A sloppy parry, a loss of footing for less than a second, a well-placed strike at the breastplate, then a call from the sidelines. The first hit for my opponent.   
No matter. I got into stance without comment. The dance continued.  
*  
Run, just run. There was nothing else. I didn’t dare turn around to look at the hideous creature pursuing me. The snake-like corpus was topped with a twisted, scaled, upper body of a woman towering at the size of a mansion.   
The tentacles near the head of the creature continuously lashed at me, making the sound of whips cracking with every strike.   
With a deafening bang, she body-slammed the ground where I had been standing less than a second ago. The force from the blow cracked up the ground crack again and I almost lost my footing.   
“She has to fall,” a deep voice resonated inside my head.   
“Yeah, no shit!” I shouted out loud with a force I didn’t know I had in me. The weight of the moonblade in my hand reminded me of its presence. The voice had definitely done something.  
Behind me, I heard the ground crunch again, and without looking, I knew the snake had covered its upper body with its tentacles and burrowed its way underground, only to pop out somewhere else in a few seconds.   
I stopped running. Moonblade at the ready, I stood my ground this time.   
*  
I kept forcing him to block low, extending my effective range and compensating for my inferior height. At some point, I got lucky and managed to score a hit in-between abrupt changes in the direction of my strikes.  
I felt my stamina dwindling. Time to end this.  
*  
I stopped and listened. I felt the Mistress’ spirit approach before I heard the ground shaking again, softly at first, drowned out by the noise of my beating heart.  
A moment before the monster emerged, I jumped. Time slowed down.  
Bits of the ground beneath my feet were blasted away so I received some extra momentum to my jump. The snake slithered out behind me. In a single movement, I turned around mid-air and buried the curved blade between tentacles, forcing them apart.   
The creature let out an infernal screech that made me think my head was going to explode. I held onto my weapon as it slid down the upper body of the monster until I pulled it out. I quickly rolled away to put distance between myself and the abomination. Our eyes met.   
Red, hellish orb bore their way into my confidence as she bared her monstrous fangs and let out a ghastly scream.  
There was not a single human thing about it, nothing that reminded of the woman she once was before she decided to fall in with a guy who spat on the cosmic order and twisted everything he touched.   
*  
The man let out an angry grunt and lunged at me.   
Knights of the order nurtured their anger and hatred to fuel their vigor in battle. I had no idea how they were supposed to survive like that. Now, their creed was my chance to win this duel.   
I dragged out the moment and let him build up momentum for a devastating blow from above to my right shoulder guard. I waited until it was almost too late to flick my arm to the side.   
*  
A side-step. That’s all it would take. If I fucked up, it would be over, simple as that. Dying here was a paradox, but I knew for a fact the results wouldn’t be pretty either way.  
“Come on, show me what you’ve…” A stream of poisonous vomit flew my way.  
*   
My opponent’s balance was off for the better part of a second. It gave me ample time to grab the hilt of my sword with my offhand. The next moment, he flinched as my strike connected with the armor on his upper arm.  
The hit was counted but that didn’t mean I had to lay off. The recruit’s bewilderment gifted me a window to switch hands again during a full turn. He hastily pulled up his weapon to parry, but I was able to muster more force from this angle, pushing into the parry from the right.   
That technique was unheard of. Good thing I didn’t give a shit.  
*  
Thank fuck for reflexes. A jump to the side, a swing of my arm.  
With the adrenaline rush of pure terror speeding up my movements and the force of death behind my blow, it was over.   
The scythe effortlessly cut through the creature’s neck, like the killer of the undead that it was.  
I was in a state of shock, not yet processing what had just happened.   
The head, now separated from the body, tumbled to the ground. With nothing to keep it functioning, the giant snake collapsed into itself.  
*  
I kept pushing against the recruit’s sword with my full weight until I was able to poke his breastplate with the blunt tip of my sword and score my third hit.  
A shit-eating grin found its way onto my face. It betrayed my immense satisfaction when I respectfully stepped back and casually let my practice weapon dangle at my side.  
*  
What had been undead, was dead again. Death reclaimed what had been denied before. Head and body dissolved into nothingness.  
The undead snake, the Mistress of Assassins, was no more.  
The sound of my heart beating loudly disturbed any serenity this realm might have had. It was over. I had to let that sink in.  
One might think, death would carry himself with an eternal, omniscient grace, but no. To me, his presence was forever associated with tasks impossible to fulfill and the annihilation of life as I knew it.  
“Fancy meeting you here,” I said and grimaced.  
*  
Rangar signaled for the ring to be vacated. I was graced with a minimal nod from th recruit when he obeyed.   
I made my way to the weapon stand in the corner of the yard to return the practice sword and armor. On my way there, I passed him again. I fully indulged in the self-satisfaction I felt at that moment, and shot him a look that said, “Now skedaddle!”  
“Truly commendable!” Rangar stated in that way of his where he accentuated every syllable. He approached me as the recruit went on his way, wearing an annoyed grimace.   
“Hope I live up to the standard,” I replied, trying to look unmoved by the compliment while I finished returning the equipment.  
“For a runner of the net? More than that.”   
“Thank you. I truly appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me.”   
“It was an honor. Keep letting your anger fester like that, you’re doing right by your betrothed.”   
I couldn’t help but flinch. Hearing him talk about Benedict was like listening to a lute snapping a string.  
“Truly a shame Yngvar failed to fulfill his mission,” he mused. Right.  
“Thanks again,” I snapped and left the building faster than would have been polite. I knew, if I’d stayed a moment longer, I would have had trouble keeping myself in check.  
These fanatics exiled good men for ’failure’ that wasn’t theirs, simply because their singular mindset didn’t allow any other viewpoint than their own. The creed of St. Anthony hadn’t seen a fresh perspective since it was jotted down some 400 years ago.   
Benedict would have spent a lot more time with the most zealous members of the order if he would have been initiated. The thought alone made me sick. A good man could only do so much until he caved and adapted.  
I stood beneath those flags again and I felt like I had arrived where I started, no more relieved of the burden of those memories than before.   
Without thinking, I summoned the moonblade. From the depth of the Twilight, it followed my call to the physical realm and materialized in a sizzle of purple reflections.   
It was forever connected to me ever since I was called into service by my father. Whenever near an undead creature, it could be summoned with nothing more than a thought. I didn’t know how, I just knew that it could.   
Things were different now. I commanded the weapon unconditionally, wielded it with the strength of death’s blessing.  
I turned it around in my hand, observing how the otherworldly metal reflected the sun. Yes, I was stronger now. I had come this far.   
After killing the Mistress of Assassins at the Water Gateway, Death sent me on an impossible quest with next to no information.   
It had taken me almost half a year, but Sophistos and the secret of the Black Grimoire were finally within reach.


	11. The Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohooo! I've finally managed to finish this chapter, again with the encouraging words of my wonderful alpha reader Raquiesha!  
> Can't believe this is nearing 50 hits at this point! This is so much more attention than I ever thought this piece would get. Dear readers out there, you are pushing me forward to continue writing to the best of my abilities!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”  
The startled look of a random passerby told me that, yes, I had just said that out loud. Since Otto Ordinary’s opinion of me was low on my list of priorities, I pretended he didn’t exist, pinched my nose, and gave myself a moment of contemplation.   
I had a job to do, but it would have to wait.  
Passing that house just now gave me the creeps. I had felt a weird kind of energy emanating from it. I firmly decided I’d rather make the recipient of Antonio’s letter and the pastor of the cursed chapel wait than pass on finding out the origin of that energy.  
I wasn’t trying to be a hero, keeping in check the evil forces roaming Venice. If anything, they were keeping me in check. Due to the absence of caution or common sense in most of my doings, sometimes their work was rather easy.  
But for once, I had time to think about what I wanted to do. I was fed up with my enemies gaining the upper hand, seemingly proving Antonio wrong in putting his trust in me.   
That energy back there had felt like something from the other side that wasn’t supposed to be here. Something undead.   
No, I was no hero, but I was the only one able to deal with this specific kind of problem. That was just a fact.   
The door to the doctor’s was made of old wooden planks, the kind that would start creaking if you looked at them funny. It made me remember something that I’d picked up during my teachings. Mental Defiance.  
It had taken more than a few long afternoons spent with Antonio to force that spell into my brain. It was the most complex piece of knowledge I’d taken out of that library and I’d never used it in the field before. Usually, I would try to think of a simpler way to solve my problems. A way that would leave me with fewer opportunities to embarrass myself.   
There was no way in hell I could pull off a Mental Shield as Antonio could. I had no delusions about that. However, the sparring match from earlier had shown me how much stronger I’d gotten, at least physically. So what I could bring to the table might have just been enough.  
A deep breath. Mental Shield at the ready. Aeris did tell me to be more careful earlier. Then again, undead creatures could sense me from a hundred kilometers away.   
I kicked in the door.   
A mirage of light announced the summoning of the moonblade in my hand. My dramatic entrance had the desired effect, as the lich turned away from whoever it was pestering and gave me a surprised look.   
During that second of surprise, I crossed the room and charged the necromancer. He blocked my scythe with his and looked me dead in the eyes. Literally. Since he was indeed dead.  
“You,” he whispered in his cold, raspy voice.   
“Me,” I quipped and flashed a wry smile. Me, the one they were supposed to kill. Me, the one person in this whole goddamn world who could actually kill them.  
I jumped back, breaking up our locked blades. Before I could try for another blow, I saw something flash in his free hand.  
“Oh, no you don’t!” I shouted and instantly got into position, Moonblade held like for a parry, supported by the back of my forearm pressed against the flat side.   
The spell bounced right off my defenses. I felt a surge of energy in every muscle, but it wasn’t damaging.  
The necromancer let out an angry shout as he charged me. With an unfamiliar, but seamless transition from a mental to a physical parry, I deflected his blow.   
Then I deflected the next. And the next. From above, then from the side. My body reacted like it had done nothing else all day. Which was true.   
And yet, I was losing, barely able to get out of harm’s way each time. Damned undead with their inhuman speed and strength.   
When his grunts become louder, his blows became stronger. Every time I outmaneuvered him to land a hit, he countered it with an eery grace.   
It occurred to me that I had bitten off more than I could chew. There was no Twilight Walking out of this one.   
With not a moment to spare, I pulled up the moonblade in an awkward angle to parry a blow aimed at my face. Sparks flew right by my eyes when his weapon hit the moonstone metal. For a fraction of a second, I saw my reflection in it and I felt… something.   
The feeling was familiar by now. The moonblade called out to me, the only way it could. It yearned to be used, thirsted for the blood of the undead.  
“Then you shall have it!” I thought and twisted out of the block with a half-turn. A tiny moment of hesitation told me the lich hadn’t anticipated my movement. With renewed vigor, I resumed my attacks and pushed my opponent back on the defensive.   
Our blades clashed. Simultaneously, we jumped back and put distance between ourselves. I was about to lash out for another strike when suddenly, the necromancer fell toward me. Wooden splinters flew everywhere.  
I didn’t waste my chance.  
The sound of the gurgling wheeze of a man dying would always get to me. The lich looked up at me, hands clutching at my scythe stuck in his stomach, with a look that was not pleading, but disgruntled. I yanked out the blade with a wide, swinging motion and cut off his head.  
I felt the moonblade receive a surge of energy from putting an undead to rest. It made an eery sound only I could hear as if it was thanking me.   
I shuddered from exhaustion and allowed myself to close my eyes for a moment. I felt like a damp sheet that had been wrangled by a washwoman.  
The man in front of me, probably the doctor, still had the back of the broken chair in his hands. Stray strands of brown, shoulder-length hair covered his face. He looked agitated, but not as shaken as I would have expected him to be.  
“What?” I blurted out when he kept looking at me as if he was trying to place my face.  
“Excuse me, I’m afraid I can’t help but be surprised that the net took the effort to send someone.”   
He made odd pauses between words but that might have just been the way he normally spoke. He seemed to have regained his wits already since he had started to casually pat himself off to lose the splinters trapped in the fabric of his robe.  
So he had recognized the sash on my belt identifying me as a guild runner.  
“You seemed to be expecting this visitor,” I remarked. When I had barely finished my sentence, he started rummaging around things lying on a nearby desk, as if he had to start working again right away. While his back was turned, the moonblade silently disappeared from my hand.  
“Oh, he was frequenting my humble practice for quite some time now,” he said nonchalantly. Combined with the odd intonation, the sound of his voice was off-putting to me, but I couldn’t put my finger on why that was.   
“And why is that?” I asked, trying my best to hide my surprise. The idea of lichs casually strolling around Venice running errands did not help to ease my persecution complex.   
“Medical help is needed by everyone,” he answered, not even looking up from what he was doing.  
“You were doing business with them?”  
“Not voluntarily, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” He sounded detached as if he wasn’t even involved in what he was talking about.  
“And how are you connected to the net?” He stopped and turned around to face me, looking around the room awkwardly.  
“More than most, your people appreciate my way of… doing things,” he said, fidgeting with the seam of his shirt. I’d come to recognize nervousness while talking about the guild as a good sign. It meant the contact made an effort to be discreet about being one.   
I’d heard of an informant in the arsenal that was referenced during my guild runner training. The man before me appeared harmless enough, so I decided to take the shortcut my intuition offered me and chose to be blunt.  
“You mean the practice of modern medicine,” I stated.   
He nodded hesitantly and was about to reply when his eyes fell on something behind me. That something hovered a blade right by my neck, so close that I felt the tip pinching the skin above a vertebrae.   
“Oh, are you fucking kidding me?” I grunted. Unfazed by the death threat, I turned around, expecting everything and nothing. I didn’t give a shit at this point. Instead, I recognized a familiar face.  
“Riccardo?”   
“What the…”  
When I saw him relax in his stance, I confidently set to step away from the blade. The movement must have thrown him off again, as he stopped me in my tracks by holding the tip near my throat.   
I held his gaze.   
“Explain,” he demanded.  
“What’s there to explain?”  
“You seem to be involved in an awful lot of things around town. You’re in too deep for an ordinary guild runner.”  
“'You owe me your silence and more.’ Those were your words. What’s it to you if I spend my free time killing lichs?”  
Apprehension was visible on his face as if he didn’t know what to do with the information.  
“What did you want with the pale fella, anyway?”  
Such an inelegant way to slither out of a sticky exchange, turning the question like that. My father would be sorely disappointed at my lacking skills at manipulation.  
Riccardo seemed to consider his next move, then lowered his blade and nodded towards the door. I nodded back.  
“You’re not just going to leave me here, are you?” a shaky voice intercepted.   
I had completely forgotten about the doctor still standing there.   
“You will be fine like this, won’t you?” I offered in my best caring, well-meaning voice. He raised an eyebrow.   
Good lord, my people skills were through the roof.   
“Look, how about I send some of my people over and they’ll take care of your,” I paused and looked down at the corpse of the lich. “problem.”   
“Erm, I think…”  
Without waiting to hear his opinion, I left him standing there and took my leave.

We had turned a corner and checked the area for eavesdroppers. Riccardo leaned against the wall, both exits of the alley in his sight.   
“They’re onto us,” he pressed out hesitantly.  
A gang leader’s trust is hard to come by, even more so the trust of their right-hand man.  
“Lich’s are infiltrating the gang.”  
My face betrayed a bit of surprise as I hadn’t expected him to tell me straight up. Then, a pause between us.  
“Shit.”  
“You can say that again.”  
I started to pace.  
“One of them talked up a group of our people yesterday and ever since then, they started acting weird. I couldn’t risk engaging them, so I was staking out another one of lichs to find out what they were up to.”   
“And here we are.”  
He nodded.  
“Shit!” I hissed.  
I was pacing so hard, I would have left skid marks on the ground, given the time. Riccardo patiently waited for me to take it in and walk it off, but my nervousness only evolved into a subliminal panic. After I’d worked my ass off to make the gangs less of a threat to my life, now the Archon’s goons were weaponizing them.  
“They’re after you,” Riccardo stated. It wasn’t a question. He must have seen the way the lich acted towards me when I interrupted it in his business with the doctor.  
“Yes.”   
He looked at me as if he expected me to present to him how I intended to solve my mess. I should have.  
“Look,” I sighed, but then looked at him sternly. “I will take care of the lichs, I promise.”  
“All on your own?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “I get that you’re good at what you do, but there are dozens of them, active all over the city.”  
“Active all over the city …” I repeated, mumbling to myself, then cracked a smile when it hit me.  
“I’m not on my own,” I said and patted the sash on my belt, “They’re dozens of us, too. Whenever you have the location of a lich, flag down a gondolier and report it to the net. They’ll send someone to contain them.”   
“The gondoliers are…”  
“Allies, yes.”  
Riccardo let out a surprised “huh”-sound and pushed his back off the wall.  
“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in me.”  
“Just returning the favor.” I winked. He gave me a friendly nod and a weak smile and turned to leave.  
“Just one thing,” I called after him, “How do you know so much about lichs?”  
His back was already turned, so I couldn’t see his face, but I noticed when he heard my words, a pang of tension went through his shoulders.   
“Well?” I insisted when he didn’t answer and just stood there for a moment.  
“Let’s say,” he said over his shoulder, apparently having regained his cool, “I have some experience.”  
This time for good, he set to leave.  
“I’ll see you around.”  
Riccardo knew he had no obligation to give me information he didn’t want me to have. It wasn’t like he owed me anything. He was definitely better at keeping secrets than I was, though it wasn’t exactly a high bar. The bastard would make a fine guild runner.  
When he was out of sight, I stretched out my arms and tried my best to shake off the exhaustion from earlier. I still had a job to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've still got a lot more planned for our heroine, so stay tuned!


	12. The Foreigner Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enemies are closing in. The plot thickens.

Antonio counted on me and I wouldn’t let him down. With no further detours, I closed in on my destination and my mind began to clear. With the confidence of a guild runner more seasoned than I was, I entered Skullbreak Tavern in search of the woman in purple.  
My eyes scanned the room while I approached the bar. The sun had just gone down, and this early, patrons were scarce except for the regulars who practically lived here.  
Behind the counter, I saw Sansa excitedly waving me over, just about to shout across the room. I gestured for her to tone it down before she did and thankfully, she understood.   
She impatiently shifted her weight from one foot to the other until I had reached the bar. Serving beer at such a gloomy place, I had never seen her this worked up.  
“What’s the matter?”  
“The dockworkers!” she said, struggling to keep her voice low, “they’re gone!”  
My heart sank at her words. It took me a moment to notice that her upbeat attitude didn’t add up with the message of someone’s death.  
“What do you…”  
“It was you, wasn’t it? You did it!”  
“I did what?”  
“What you said you would! You found a solution! You gave them a chance for a new life! You’re like a hero!”  
I had arranged something earlier in the afternoon, but Dego had said I should send them to him. He never said anything about getting them himself.  
“Hold up. What happened?”  
“Earlier, a man came by and talked to the group. After he left, they said they’d go pack up and start a new life.”  
My heart sank back down to where it was before. Reminded of the lichs’ activity with the gangs, a man talking up a group of people only for them to disappear couldn’t be good.  
“Sansa, listen to me carefully,” I implored her, leaning over the counter so I could further lower my voice. “How did the man look? What exactly did he say to them? I need to know.”   
“What, I thought you’d sent him?”  
“Let’s hope that was him. What did he look like?”  
“Let’s see, it was a bulky guy with really small eyes. Kept playing around with his brown cap as if he had stolen jewels stashed in there. Sound right?”  
“What did they talk about? Did you pick up anything?”  
“The guy offered them jobs as miners if they would come with him. Apparently, he had to leave the city a bit earlier than planned so it was take it or leave it. They took the offer, of course.”  
“Anything else?”   
“The group was wary at first. They wanted to know why he knew that they were looking for work. Then the guy said he came on the recommendation of someone from a mountain village that’s important for the copper trade, but I can’t remember the name. I remembered you were from the mountains originally, so I immediately thought he meant you.”  
“San Pasquale?”  
“That’s it!”  
I let out a relieved sigh. She still gave me a puzzled look.  
“Good grief, Sansa! I didn’t know he would go get them right then and there. People being talked to by random men and then disappearing?”  
Realization showed on her face.   
“Oh dear.”  
“You owe me a beer for the scare you gave me.”  
“God, I’m so sorry! They looked so happy about the opportunity. All the nights they spent here, resigned and at the end of their wits … I guess I blanked and got naive because I wanted it to be true so badly.”  
“No harm done, love. Just be careful. These are dangerous times.”  
“Of course,” she mumbled and trailed off, then she suddenly started beaming again, just like when she saw me come in.   
“If it was you, that means you’re a hero after all!”  
“Nonsense,” I dismissed the topic. I pulled my hood deeper into my face and turned to lean back against the bar, then added over my shoulder, “I’m no such thing, Sansa. Right now, I need something else, anyway.”  
“You are to me,” she chimed, but let it go. “What do you need?”  
“Nevermind, found it.”  
Red hair and a dress with purple linings. Here I had thought I was the one that was easy to spot. She sat alone at a corner table with a posture too proud and elegant for this part of town. Sharp eyes watched the room and betrayed condescension, but against whom or what, I could not say.   
One thing was clear— she could give less of a fuck about standing out.  
“What can you tell me about her?” The rough direction of my gaze and the woman being this noticeable told Sansa who I meant.   
“Her? She’s the best business we had in years. Keeps ordering expensive kinds of wine I didn’t even know we had. Seems she’s waiting for someone and is not happy about having it to do in here. Are you that someone?”  
“Maybe. Has she talked to anyone?”  
“Nope, she keeps to herself. There was a patron who tried to hit on her earlier. Whatever she said to him, he’s kept his distance from her since, as if she’d bite his head off if he dared to go near her again. You guys could compare notes or something.”  
I chuckled lowly.  
“I think I could like her.”  
“I bet. She’s basically you, but with money at her back instead of a sword. No offense.”  
“None taken.” I laughed. God, Sansa was such a dear. “Alright, you take care now,” I said to her and pushed my back off the bar.   
As I approached the woman, any good feeling I might have had about her earlier suddenly evaporated. A nervousness settled in my gut that I couldn’t explain at all.   
“Let’s get this over with,” I whispered to myself and confidently took the seat across from her without bothering to ask for permission. This was not the place to care about manners.  
“Letter from a friend,” I said before she could protest against my sudden presence in her personal space and produced the letter from my belt pouch.   
Two of my gloved fingers inconspicuously slid the letter to the middle of the table, right next to the candle, as a nonverbal offering to look at the symbol of the wax seal and take it. And so she did.  
I had taken my seat in a way that would allow me to leave as quickly as possible, as soon as I could confirm my task to be fulfilled.   
I studied her face, at least I tried. Her expression betrayed nothing except that she tried to study me in the same way. When she opened the letter and read it, her eyebrows moved upwards, but only just so.   
“Him, too, huh,” she commented on her thoughts, out loud, much to my surprise. Again, betraying nothing, she fixed my gaze again.   
A few seconds into our little staring contest, she threw the letter up in the air. Like a feather, it gently fell, until it landed on top of the burning candle. From a hole in the middle, the flame quickly swallowed the paper, leaving nothing but ash.   
The strange feeling from before became more concrete: This couldn’t have been the reaction Antonio had been hoping for.   
She’d never stopped looking me in the eyes. The longer she did, the more I felt as if she was looking beyond them. I didn’t feel anything remotely necromantic in the area, but there was something about her that awakened a fight-or-flight instinct in me. The only other time I had felt that way had been with… Oh, fuck.  
“Interesting addition to the net,” she pondered out loud, appraising me as if I was an object to evaluate.  
“Interesting cleavage,” I blurted out. Whatever in the seven hells made me say that out loud, it caught her off-guard. I took her moment of bewilderment to make a swift exit, mumbling “So long” when I passed her.  
My heart hadn’t stopped pounding when I had closed the door of the tavern behind me. The streets were empty, now that it was completely dark except for moonlight and the street lamps.  
The only other times I had had that feeling before had been with the Mistress of Assassins and the lichs. The red-haired woman was human, of that I was sure, but she too carried the touch of the Archon.   
I knew he had his spies just about everywhere. For some reason, I had a feeling she knew who I was. Aeris had told me to be careful just this morning and now, they knew my face.   
What could I do? Paralyzed by fear, I stood there, in the middle of a godforsaken empty street, unmoving, with my mind reeling.   
Following her, talking to her, everything would just push me further into the Archon’s arms when I was nowhere near ready to take him on. Antonio knew who the woman was. Asking him for help and guidance seemed the most sensible option.  
An ear-piercing caw pulled me out of my panic.   
“What?” I yelled at the raven on the pavement in front of me. It gave me a look of confusion at my sudden outburst, no notion what it could have done to deserve it.   
I had no patience for this right now. Ravens usually had a special relationship with necromancy and those practicing it., but me, I could never get through to them.   
However, the bird before me tried its best to get through to me. With a few hops and wing-flaps, it had crossed the distance between us and sat on the rim of the knee-high plant pot that was standing just left of the tavern entrance.  
With another caw, it directed my attention to the plant pot.   
“You want me to look at this?”  
It cawed again in confirmation. Now don’t ask me how one distinguishes a confirming from a negating caw. It cawed. Let’s leave it at that.  
Were I a better necromancer, I could have established a telepathic link with the creature or with whoever sent it. This would have to do.   
In any case, it was an excellent excuse to distract myself from the fact that I had probably just signed my own death warrant.  
Hidden within the leaves of the plant, I found a rolled piece of paper. It appeared to be empty, but all that guild runner training wasn’t for nothing.   
A nearby street lamp did the trick. I held the paper between me and the light to make the ink visible. However, the flickering of the oil-fueled flame and the terrible handwriting turned my attempt at reading it into an involuntary lesson in cryptography. Eventually, I managed to read the message.  
“Resources running out at night. Meet at the place of a thousand shadows. Now.”  
Runners, when communicating via dropped messages like this, used only a small set of code words. This one must have been written in a hurry.  
Some things were clear. I had to meet the author of the message at the place of a thousand shadows and I had to do it now. It was a matter of life and death.  
By the time I had crossed at least three bridges on the way to the destination, scouring my brain for the code “at night” still hadn’t turned up any results.   
It wasn’t a runner I had been in contact before, or I would have recognized the handwriting or signature. I thought about how my own code name came to be.   
“Filia mortis”, the daughter of death, was an inside joke between me and Aeris, hinting at the fact that most of my necromantic talent stemmed from exactly that, talent, rather than the years of hard work it usually took as if I was born with it. The joke became a lot less funny once she found out that it was literally the truth.  
So, translations of meaningful things in Latin. Couldn’t be that hard to identify that code name, now, could it?  
It wasn’t.  
“Oh shit,” I called out and started running.


End file.
